Look Not Mournfully Into The Past
by Gmariam
Summary: It has been just over a year since the fall of Torchwood One. When Ianto Jones returns to Canary Wharf to keep a promise, he finds more than just memories amidst the broken rubble of the past. He must fight to keep the new life he's built in Cardiff, as well as the future of Torchwood.
1. Chapter One

_Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear._

_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

* * *

Jack heard the Hub come to life as the alarms went off and the cog door rolled open. After a few moments, he stepped out of his office to see Tosh and Owen settling in for the day. For Tosh, that meant hanging up her light jacket, setting up her computer station, and actually sitting down to work. For Owen, that meant tossing his coat on the sofa and stalking around, apparently looking for something.

"Where's Ianto?" he grumbled. "I need coffee."

Jack grinned down at him. "Late night?"

"Early morning," Owen replied shortly before turning around to shout into the Hub. "Oi, teaboy! Where's the coffee?" He stopped yelling when he got no answer and looked up at Jack in confusion. "Bollocks, I don't even smell it brewing."

Jack shrugged. "He's not in yet." Which was unusual, now that he thought about it, but then, he had been caught up in so many reports that he hadn't noticed the time. He had wanted to finish them so he was free of the damn things for the rest of the day.

"He's not coming in today," Tosh said over her shoulder. "Should have picked up some coffee on the way in, I forgot."

"What's he out for?" Owen asked. "And what are we going to drink in the meantime?"

Tosh whirled around on her chair. "You know, you like to give him a hard time, but you sure count on him for your morning fix, don't you?" Jack covered his mouth so he didn't laugh out loud, because seeing Tosh take Owen down a peg was always a thing of beauty.

"Seriously, though," Jack said after Owen had stopped muttering under his breath. "Why's he not coming in? He didn't mention anything last—" He stopped before he said "night" as he wasn't sure whether he should go there, particularly with Owen already in a foul mood. "Last time I saw him. Everything all right?" He was surprised and even a bit hurt that Ianto hadn't mentioned that he wasn't coming to work. They had spent a good deal of the previous night together, after all—dinner, a movie at Ianto's flat, a bit of a fun on the couch (and floor and chair and table) before Jack had headed back to the Hub. At least now he knew why Ianto hadn't asked him to stay the night.

Tosh smiled and nodded. "Everything's fine. Today is his birthday, that's all."

"And when did we start taking our birthdays off?" asked Jack. He had remembered that it was Ianto's birthday—well, Tosh had reminded him last week—and had even made plans for it, but he was still surprised no one, especially Ianto, had mentioned taking birthdays off.

Tosh took a deep breath, as if worried about Jack's reaction. "Gwen suggested it while you were gone. She took hers off to be with Rhys—that's when he proposed. And I've already got plans for mine next month."

"You do not," said Owen with a tone of disbelief, and Tosh gave him a challenging look that only Jack noticed was also slightly hurt by Owen's words.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And Ianto does as well. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do." She turned her back on him and ignored them both.

Owen exchanged a look with Jack and shook his head, once again muttering under his breath. Jack watched the doctor head toward the kitchen, no doubt to microwave some sort of instant sludge to satisfy his need for caffeine; he'd be storming out to the local cafe in an hour.

"Right, well, I'm going to head out for a while then. Can you hold down the fort?" Jack asked. Tosh glanced toward the kitchen first, then turned and looked up at Jack.

"Are you going to see him?" she asked.

"Who?" Jack asked as innocently as possible. He didn't do innocent, though, so Tosh just grinned knowingly at him.

"Ianto, of course. For his birthday?"

"I thought I'd stop by while checking out a Weevil sighting, yeah." Jack shrugged and hoped he wasn't blushing. He didn't usually do blushing either, but there was something about the way Tosh was looking at him that made him think it could happen, at least when it came to Ianto.

"Tell him happy birthday, then," she said. If Tosh were a different sort of woman, she might have winked, but instead she just gave him another friendly smile and turned back to her work. "And have fun."

Jack laughed softly to himself as he hurried back into his office to grab his coat and the keys to the SUV. He also picked up the gift he had bought for Ianto, just in case he didn't have a chance to see him later. He almost ran over Gwen on the way out, offering a hurried greeting as he rushed past her. He wanted to catch Ianto before the man left for whatever he had planned for the day.

As he walked, he sent a text wishing Ianto a happy birthday and asking if he could stop by the flat.

_I'm on my way out for the day. Be back tonight._

Jack frowned; he almost felt like he was being blown off. He sent a quick note back.

_I won't invite myself along, but I'm on my way by anyway for a birthday kiss._

He could almost imagine Ianto rolling his eyes at that. Jack just hoped it worked, and Ianto didn't leave without at least saying goodbye. For some reason it bothered him that Ianto wanted to be by himself on his birthday, or that he was keeping secrets about what he was doing. Jack had thought they'd moved past much of that and had hoped for an easy day so they could call it an early night. He'd actually made reservations at one of Ianto's favorite restaurants in town and had tickets for a show on standby if Ianto was interested.

But Ianto already had plans—plans that didn't include Jack. Why?

His phone buzzed and he almost dropped the keys to the SUV before opening the door and checking his messages.

_Good thing I'm still eating then. I'm not waiting for you. Don't speed._

Jack laughed at the response as he started the SUV. He tried not to speed, but he pushed it; fortunately Ianto's flat was not far. He pulled up and dashed to the door, hoping Ianto hadn't left as he knocked, his heart pounding.

The door seemed to open by itself. "Come on in, then," said Ianto, walking away. He grabbed his laptop bag from the sofa as he headed into the kitchen. Jack followed silently. Ianto took a water bottle from the icebox and tucked some snacks into his bag before turning to Jack.

"What's up?"

Jack just stared at him. For one, Ianto was not in a suit: he was dressed casually in dark jeans and a maroon button down shirt, brown loafers finishing a look that was almost as good as one of his impeccable suits. Second, he had not shaved and had a fair amount of stubble that really looked quite nice. And third of all, Ianto rarely, if ever, asked, "What's up?"

"Jack?" Ianto prompted. "I'm on a schedule here."

"Why?" asked Jack, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Where are you going?"

Ianto shrugged as he walked away, grabbing his jacket from the top of a chair and pocketing his keys. "Out."

"It's your birthday," Jack said, knowing how obvious and stupid he sounded. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, it is."

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you." They stared at one another for a moment before Ianto gave him a questioning look. "And?"

"And why did you take the day off to go out by yourself without saying anything? I was sort of hoping to take you out later."

"I'll be back tonight," Ianto replied, ignoring the other half of the question. Jack wasn't having it.

"Where are you going?" he asked again.

Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to London. Just for the day. I shouldn't be back too late." He gave Jack a smile, stepped forward as if he wanted to kiss him goodbye, then instead turned around to leave. "So if you want me to make it there and back, I need to get going."

"What's in London?" Jack asked, following him out and feeling like a kicked puppy. He did not like feeling like a kicked puppy. This was not normal for him or Ianto, and he was starting to get worried that something was wrong.

"I just want to visit a few places. Haven't been back since I left." Ianto tried to shrug it off, but Jack heard something in the tone of Ianto's voice, something that told him much more. Placing a gentle hand on Ianto's arm, he turned him around, but kept his distance even though he wanted to pull the man close.

"You're going to Canary Wharf, aren't you?" he asked softly. The look on Ianto's face answered for him, and Jack shook his head. "On your birthday? Why?"

"I missed the anniversary in June," Ianto said softly. "This is the first chance I've had to go back, pay my respects…" He trailed off, his eyes suddenly distant and haunted.

"Ianto, are you ready for that?" Jack asked, concern flooding through him. He knew well enough that returning to the scene of a trauma could often be just as bad if not worse than the trauma itself. Sometimes even a year was not long enough to accept such memories and move on with life. Had Ianto? Jack was ashamed to find that he really didn't know: they hadn't talked about it since he'd returned from traveling with the Doctor over two months ago. They had needed to figure out too many other things together.

Ianto didn't answer right away. "Yes, I'm ready. I need to go, Jack. I made a promise."

"To who?" asked Jack, realizing too late that it might be none of his business, particularly when Ianto gave him a sad smile.

"To Lisa."

Jack nodded. "Right. Of course." It didn't bother him, that Ianto was keeping a promise to Lisa, only that Ianto hadn't felt comfortable sharing it with him. Like he was hiding something all over again. Jack's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Ianto sighed.

"Look, it's nothing, Jack. I'm not trying to keep secrets, I just didn't want to worry you. Last year, she was upset that we couldn't celebrate my birthday…for obvious reasons." Ianto paused, looked away, then turned back and met Jack's eyes. "I told her it was all right, that we would celebrate this year, back in London. So I'm going to London, to remember that promise."

"I understand," Jack said, and he did. Sometimes he forgot just how much Ianto had gone through over the past year, given how well the man still hid himself sometimes. Jack wished that Ianto would trust him enough to share more of his past and feelings. Then again, Jack wasn't an open book himself, but he had tried, really tried, since he had come back. He wanted things to be different between them.

Leaning forward, he embraced Ianto before taking his face for the promised birthday kiss. He grinned as he felt Ianto melt into it and halfway wanted to drag him back to the flat for a quick shag before he left for London. But Ianto pulled away with a roll of his eyes, as if he knew exactly what Jack was thinking.

"See you tonight," he murmured. "I'll call when I'm back."

Jack nodded, still feeling strangely left out of Ianto's life when he knew now that he wanted to be a part of it. "Are you sure you don't want any company?"

"I really don't think I'd be good company, Jack," Ianto said, stepping into his Audi. He fastened his seat belt and rolled down the window. "I'll be fine. Really."

"I know," Jack replied, stepping back as Ianto started the car. "Just be careful."

Ianto nodded and began to back up. Jack once again felt oddly abandoned. He waved, but didn't move toward the SUV. Instead, he watched Ianto pull away, then grinned as he pulled right back into his space, put the window down again, rolled his eyes in that way he had, and barked at him in that beautiful Welsh accent.

"Well, come on, then—get in."

Jack laughed as he hurried to the other side of the car and jumped in. It looked like he was going to London after all, and he couldn't be happier about it. He could use a day off himself—especially if it was with Ianto.

* * *

Author's Note: 

I decided I wanted to write a story for Ianto's birthday this month. Because he's a fictional character and that makes sense, right? Well, you might be expecting romance and fluff, but don't. This is actually a plot-driven chaptered story that doesn't just focus on their relationship. It's my attempt to write a bit of mystery, as well as a story about Jack and Ianto that's not just about how they hook up or get back together, but how they _are_ together. It is set after the episode _To The Last Man_ but before _Meat. _Jack and Ianto have already worked through any issues involved in Jack's long disappearance with the Doctor (because that's still languishing in the unfinished fic garden with several others.) I hope you enjoy this! It won't be too long but it's cracking along and I'm excited about it so far!


	2. Chapter Two

They made the trip to London in a little over three hours, arriving just before lunch. For as much as Ianto scoffed at Jack for his driving in the city, on open roads the Welshman had no problem pushing the speed limit. At first they sat in companionable silence, but unlike Ianto, Jack wasn't much for silence, and he still had a lot of questions.

"So do you have any other plans in London?"

Ianto glanced sideways at him and turned down the stereo. The strains of John Coltrane faded away. "I thought I'd go to the Wharf first, find a nice place to eat for a late lunch, and then…" He trailed off with a shake of his head.

"Then what?" asked Jack, genuinely curious. "It can't be anything embarrassing like visiting your favorite strip club or something. Not that I'd mind, but you don't seem—"

"No, it's nothing like that," Ianto said, but then a crooked grin snuck onto his face. "Although there was a good one not far from work. The Sin Bin."

"Ianto Jones, I'm shocked!" Jack laughed. "And you are definitely taking me there, like it or not."

"It is _my_ birthday, Jack," Ianto reminded him, but he was smiling. These were the times Jack liked best: just being with Ianto, talking and teasing, listening and laughing. It was what drew him to Ianto as much as the man's quiet strength and good looks.

"Right. So what's the big secret, then?"

"I thought I'd ride the London Eye," said Ianto, and Jack groaned.

"I know, I know—it's overrun with tourists, especially this time of year. But Lisa was afraid of heights, she refused to ride anything. And then last year, last summer…" Ianto stopped as he swallowed to continue. "She said when we made it back to London the first thing she wanted to do was ride the Eye. Get over her fear, because nothing was worse than what happened at Canary Wharf."

Jack looked out the window and sighed to himself. Again it came back to Canary Wharf. It was looking to be a rather depressing birthday, but Jack was glad Ianto had invited him along, because he couldn't imagine the man facing such memories alone. He reached out and squeezed Ianto's hand.

"Then the Eye it is. I've never been on it."

"You've got your roofs," Ianto pointed out.

"Exactly. Great view, and all for free."

They hit the traffic that was mid-day London then, and it took a while to get down to the river where Torchwood One had dominated the skyline. Jack could sense Ianto tensing up the closer and closer they got, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, his face set in a grim mask. They left the Audi in a local car park and walked down to where the tower had once stood…only now it was gone, razed after the battle as if it had never existed.

Jack kept a careful eye on Ianto. His jaw was locked, his eyes unblinking as he stared at the sight—a fenced in hole of dirt and debris—where so many of his friends and coworkers had died that horrible day both the Cybermen and the Daleks had come through the void. He stood stiffly and silently for the longest time, a statue unable to look away, until Jack finally touched him lightly on the arm, and Ianto jumped. He wiped uneasily at his face, as if exhausted already.

"Sorry, I just didn't know what to expect," he said softly. "I knew they had torn it down, but actually seeing it, seeing that gaping hole…" He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe any of it had ever happened. "I'm glad it's gone. Too many people died there to do anything else."

"But you survived," Jack murmured, putting his arm around Ianto's shoulder and pulling him close. Ianto allowed himself to be held, and Jack noticed that he was shaking. "Do you want to leave?"

Ianto took a deep breath and shook his head again. "No, I want to sit for a while. Think. Process. Remember."

"All right." Jack led him to a bench on the pavement not far away, where they sat quietly for a long time. He was starting to get worried, that Ianto had come back to revisit his past too soon, when Ianto finally spoke.

"I know you've seen a lot of strange and terrible things in your life, Jack, but this…this was horrible. Staggeringly horrible." His voice was barely a whisper.

"I can't imagine what it was like," Jack replied, gazing around him at the area where so many people had died—people Ianto had known. "I've fought Daleks—hell, one even killed me, the first time."

Ianto glanced at him in surprise. "That's how it all started," Jack said softly. "But that's my story, not yours. And I've fought Cybermen, but I've never fought them together. And I've never seen the conversion process, never lost friends and coworkers to it."

"I hope you never do. It's unimaginable, the nightmare that Torchwood One became so quickly. They were so fast, so efficient. There was no way to stop them, there were so many of them." He paused for another breath. "They just set up their…their factories and started converting everyone they could, any way they could. You could hear the screaming all around you, smell the blood everywhere you went. Feel the terror, the shock, the loss of humanity in the very air."

"You never told me how you survived."

"That's because I'm not proud of it."

Jack turned to him in surprise. "Not proud of it? Ianto, only twenty-seven people made it out of there alive, you—"

"Twenty-eight," Ianto corrected.

"Twenty-eight," Jack said. "You have nothing to feel guilty about, if that's what you're thinking."

"Of course I do," said Ianto, looking away. "But not because I survived. Because I didn't fight."

"Tell me," said Jack. Ianto needed to let this out, here and now, in order to move on. Jack couldn't believe this was how they were celebrating the man's birthday, but it had been Ianto's choice to come to London, and now they had to see it through to the end.

"I was with eight others working on cataloguing some new tech from the warehouse when it all started. Rupert seemed to sense something was wrong immediately. Communications were down, but we could hear the battle coming closer and closer, the guns, the screams. Two of us scouted out and saw what they were doing with the conversion process, so Rupert told us to get help. To get out and tell someone what was really going on inside. U.N.I.T., the army, anyone. It was like he knew Torchwood was fighting a losing battle, since most of us were just worker bees—scientists, researchers, office assistants. What did we really know about fighting aliens? We read about it, that's all. Played with their toys."

"So you went for help?"

"We tried. We were on the thirty-fifth floor. It took hours of sneaking through back stairways and ducts and empty offices. There were several minor skirmishes, that's how I got the scar on my leg. We lost two men, David and Mark, when we ran into a Dalek. The rest of us finally made it to the basement, bruised and bloody, where there were tunnels that would let us out by the river. We looked up, but it was all over. We heard this great rushing noise, felt the pull as everything was sucked back into the building and disappeared." His voice shook. "But by then Torchwood was dead."

Jack took his hand and squeezed, his own heart racing from the picture Ianto painted of that terrible day. "It's not your fault you were too late. There was nothing else you could have done."

"It was so, so quiet then, Jack. Dead silence." Ianto laughed bitterly. "Because most everyone was dead. Hundreds missing, pulled into the void. Others left behind in half converted pieces, arms and legs and even faces torn off. It was…worse than anything I've seen in my entire life. It was like hell on earth."

"Yet you went back in?" Jack asked gently, and Ianto nodded, his eyes distant.

"They tried to stop me, but once the screaming started, I had to find her. I didn't know whether she was dead or alive, but I made my way best as I could toward anyone I could hear. There were several of them, half converted and in such desperate, burning pain. But I couldn't help them all, I had to get Lisa out."

"You did what you had to do," Jack said. "And you did good."

Ianto's head whipped around, his eyes haunted once again. "Did I, Jack? Maybe if I hadn't been sneaking around trying to escape I could have saved her sooner. Instead I found my girlfriend had been half converted into a soulless robot. How is that good?"

"You weren't trying to escape, you were going for help, and you fought like hell to get out and get that help." Jack could see Ianto did not believe him, but he continued anyway. "You couldn't have stood up to them alone, or with any of the others. They killed almost 800 people that day, Ianto. You would just be another dead body—or worse."

"Like Lisa," Ianto murmured.

"Like Lisa," Jack agreed. They were silent for another long moment.

"Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off forgetting it ever happened," Ianto said softly, looking down at his hands. "If I should have taken the Retcon and gone off to live a normal life, forgot all about it and moved on with life like the rest of London. But I still had Lisa, and I couldn't abandon her." He sighed. "And now, after all that, Torchwood is too much a part of who I am to forget it all."

"I'm glad you didn't," Jack said softly. "What we do is important, maybe even more important than Torchwood One. We're trying to stop it from happening again. And I need you." He meant it in more ways than one, and hoped Ianto understood that.

Ianto didn't answer right away. "I know. I guess I'm just feeling maudlin today. I wouldn't leave now, Jack. Don't worry."

Jack kissed him on the temple. Ianto did not usually like public displays of affection, but apparently he was deeply affected by being back at Canary Wharf because he accepted it unflinchingly.

"Good," Jack replied. "Because I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want you to either." They both paused to get a hold of strong emotions before Jack took a deep breath and continued. "Ready now?" he asked, and this time Ianto nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready. And I'm hungry." He turned to Jack, his face slightly less lined than it had been earlier, as if telling even a part of his story—Jack knew there was still much, much more—had been purging, somehow. Jack wished he could do the same, but most of his own stories were even harder to tell.

"Then let's get something to eat," Jack said. "Any local favorites?"

"There was a Thai place not far from here," Ianto said, standing up and rolling his shoulders. "Should still be there. Good food."

"I think I know it. Let's go." They started to leave the area, heading west toward the river on Colonade Street, but they paused when a voice hissed at them from next to a nearby building.

"Wait! Don't go!"

They both stopped, looked at one another, and turned slowly. Jack let his hand slide casually down toward his waist where his Webley was slung, because he felt the hackles on his neck standing. Something about the voice sounded...wrong.

Standing behind them was a young woman. She had once been beautiful, but her lower face and jaw were twisted by hideous burn scars that ran down her neck, and her voice had that same raw, scraped quality to it. Her blue eyes were bright with an intensity bordering on madness, her ginger hair drawn into a tangled braid draped to the side. Ratty jeans and a dirty old jumper far too large for her small frame finished the unsettling look.

"You're one of them," she said, stepping toward Ianto. Jack pulled back his coat to let her see his gun as a silent warning, but she ignored him, and Ianto gave a subtle shake of his head.

"So are you," he said softly, barely moving. "You worked for Torchwood. I remember you. I remember your hair."

The woman's hands ran nervously over her braid and she narrowed her eyes at him. "It's okay," he continued softly, as if speaking to a spooked dog. "I'm not going to hurt you. You worked with Lisa—Lisa Hallett, in Human Resources, right?"

The woman nodded slowly. "I met you in the cafeteria, the week I started."

"That's right, Lisa introduced us. Your first day."

The woman's eyes teared up. "God, I was so excited to start working for Torchwood, to be a part of the ghost shifts. I didn't even make it a week."

Jack swore under his breath. Poor kid, she had started a new job only to see it decimated within days. He may not have liked Torchwood One, but those people did not deserve the fate that had fallen upon them because of the greed and ineptitude of people like Yvonne Hartman. He covered his revolver and let his hands down, though he stayed on guard. Ianto stepped forward.

"I'm Ianto," he said, still in that same, gentle voice. "Ianto Jones. I was in Research."

"You were Lisa's boyfriend," the girl nodded. "I remember, that's how she introduced you. As her boyfriend." The woman did not offer anymore, so Ianto took a deep breath and continued.

"Yes, I was. But I'm afraid I don't remember your name. Would you tell me?" He held out a hand to her.

The woman eyed him warily, as if revealing her name was too private, too secret to divulge. Or maybe she didn't remember, maybe she had gone mad. But then she stepped forward and reached out. Ianto took her hand, and with a surprising strength, she pulled him closer and murmured in his ear, just loud enough that Jack could hear.

"My name is Fiona. And you shouldn't be here, Ianto Jones. You shouldn't have come back."

* * *

Author's Note:

I told you not to expect fluff. Turn back now if that's what you want. Ianto's not having a good 25th birthday, sorry. But thanks for reading if you stick around! :)


	3. Chapter Three

Ianto stepped back slowly, releasing Fiona's hand as her eyes darted anxiously around the area, like she was searching for someone nearby who might be watching.

"Why shouldn't I be here?" he asked quietly, following her restless gaze. "Am I in danger? Are you?"

She nodded her head as she twisted her hands. "You're in danger because you're one of them."

"One of the survivors of Canary Wharf?" asked Jack, stepping up beside him. Fiona seemed to notice Jack for the first time, but she ignored him, eyes only for Ianto.

"I try to warn anyone who comes here, but no one believes me. They are dying, the survivors. There are less than half of us now."

Ianto exchanged a startled look with Jack; this was news to both of them. "What do you mean, half? What's happened to them?"

She glanced around again and leaned closer. "One or two didn't survive their injuries, a few suicides since the battle. But the others…the others were killed. Even the ones who took the Retcon. Murdered."

"How do you know this?" asked Ianto, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. She could be insane, but his instincts told him otherwise; she was broken, yes, but not quite mad, not yet. He did not want to believe that what she said could be true.

"Because I live here," she said, gesturing around them and apparently referring to the streets of Canary Wharf. "I watch them come and stare at the empty sky with their sad eyes, just like you, and then they go off and die. Sometimes they don't even have to come here to die. They just wash up on the shore or show up in the morgue. You are not safe, Ianto Jones."

"Who's killing them?" asked Jack. "And why?"

She shook her head, as if she either couldn't bear to look at him or was hiding something. "I don't know. I just know you're in danger. You have to leave." She glanced over her shoulder and with a gasp pushed Ianto away. "Now! Run!"

And without another word she dashed away. Ianto thought that he saw a man in a dark suit turn to follow her, and he moved to go after the strange, troubled woman, but Jack pulled him back and turned him around, leading him away by the elbow.

"There's more than one of them," he said under his breath, "so let's do what she suggested and take a walk."

Ianto tried very hard not to look behind him for other suspicious men in suits. "You believe her?" he asked quietly. "She didn't seem quite right. I don't remember her that way."

Jack gave him a pointed look "That doesn't mean she's not telling the truth." They continued to walk toward the river, back toward the car park, all thoughts of lunch at the Thai restaurant lost. Jack was looking sideways and toward the rooftops, and Ianto finally glanced over his shoulder to see if they were being followed; the area was crowded with midday workers, almost impossible to tell one man in a suit from another.

"She's clearly upset about something," Jack continued. "You brought your laptop, right?" When Ianto nodded, Jack went on. "Then we just nip into a café somewhere, log in to the Torchwood servers, and see if what she's saying might be true."

"You really suppose it's possible?" Ianto asked, not wanting to think about it, about someone taking out the survivors of Torchwood One. "That someone would try to kill us, those of us who survived?" Jack just answered with a look, and Ianto shook his head in return. "I can't imagine why. We're not a threat."

"That depends on the endgame," Jack said in that enigmatic way he had that more often than not annoyed Ianto.

They had to cut through a short passageway between buildings to get to the car park. Ianto glanced behind them again; it looked clear, and he nodded at Jack to continue. Yet the area was strangely empty now, perfect for an ambush. Both men put their hands to their weapons as they continued walking faster, but it was too late: everything happened so fast.

A man appeared in front of them, blocking the last several meters to the car park. He was holding some sort of strange gun. Jack raised his Webley and Ianto whirled with his weapon raised, but two more men appeared there, blocking the way with semi-automatics. They all wore black suits, non-descript in appearance in every way. Ianto did not recognize them, but knew instantly that Fiona had been right: they were in danger.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded, weapon still trained on the man in front of them, while Ianto covered the two in the back.

"We are no one you need to know. We are just here to clean up."

Ianto turned, and Jack automatically turned with him, so they continued to stand back to back while Ianto faced the man in front, the man with the unusual gun.

"Clean up what? Canary Wharf? Is that what you're doing then?"

The man cocked his head slightly to the left and Ianto saw a long scar down the side of his neck, from his ear down. His face did not contain any expression whatsoever as he raised the gun, and his voice was flat when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. That is exactly what we are doing."

And he fired straight at Ianto.

Ianto heard Jack shout and was violently pushed out of the way, landing hard on the pavement. Some sort of dart seemed to fly in slow motion toward Jack's back as he took down the men who had followed them with two quick shots to the chest. Then it was Ianto's turn to shout and scramble to his feet as Jack spun, faced the last man…and the dart hit right him in the upper arm before he could fire.

It hit him hard enough to jerk him backward and drop the Webley. Ianto got off a shot at the man with the dart gun, catching him in the right shoulder before he turned and dashed around the corner. Ianto's instinct was to run after him—he expected Jack to yell at him to go—but a quick glance over his shoulder told him something else was very wrong: Jack was on his hands and knees, frowning with a surprised look on his face.

"My arm's numb," he said. Ianto leaned down and helped him stand; Jack slipped with a nervous laugh. "And there goes my leg."

"Must have been some sort of poison dart," Ianto murmured. "We need to get you to the car. I've got an anti-toxin kit in the boot."

Jack's head lolled with a grin. "You do?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "And this surprises you because?"

Jack didn't answer. He tried to step forward but lurched awkwardly instead, and Ianto grabbed him around the waist to keep him up, one arm still raised with gun ready in case more men in suits showed up to finish what the others had started.

"Just a bit farther, Jack," Ianto murmured as they stumbled toward the car park. "Hang in there."

Jack mumbled something unintelligible.

They made it through the car park without incident. As soon as Ianto unlocked the car, Jack fell into the back seat, breathing fast with his eyes closed. Ianto immediately dialed Owen's mobile as he hurried to the boot to get the anti-toxin kit…except it wasn't there, he'd taken it out the week before to have his car serviced and must have left it in his flat, and Owen wasn't answering his phone.

"Dammit, Owen, pick up!"

The phone went to voice mail, and Ianto threw it down angrily in the front seat as he started the car and sped out of the car park, gun still in hand. He could hear Jack mumbling in the back.

"We're going to the A&E," Ianto said. "Don't argue."

"No hospitals," Jack muttered, his eyes fluttering open with a weak grin. "Try the Four Seasons instead. It's your birthday, after all."

"The Four Seasons?" Ianto asked, turning toward Westferry Circus. "That's a hotel."

"Not the hospital," Jack repeated. "I don't do A&E, too complicated." It sounded like it was taking every bit of effort for him to talk. "Standing account at Four Seasons for Torchwood meetings. Nice place. Happy birthday." He stopped abruptly, and Ianto turned to glance back at him.

"Dammit Jack, stay awake. We're almost there. I'll try Owen again and everything will be fine."

Jack murmured something unintelligible once more, and Ianto sped up.

The hotel was only minutes away, but those minutes felt like hours to Ianto. Pulling up to the front, Ianto cleared his gun and stowed it behind him as he slung his laptop bag over his shoulder. He literally tossed the valet the keys to his car as he leapt out of the door and began to help Jack out of the back, hoping the man was still conscious. It would certainly not look good to be checking into a posh hotel with an attractive but unconscious male partner.

Jack lifted his head as if it weighed too much to carry on his shoulders. He opened his eyes, pupils blown wide, and took a deep breath. He appeared to be thinking exactly what Ianto was thinking, for he struggled to stand up straighter, even though Ianto could feel him shaking with the effort, and he still held onto Ianto's arm for support.

They limped into the hotel and made their way to the front desk. A pretty blond woman gazed at them in concern. "Is everything all right, sir?" she asked solicitously.

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood. I have an account here," Jack just barely managed to get the words out. "And as I am really not feeling well, I would adore a king suite, as fast as possible."

"Of course, sir," she said. "Could I see—"

Ianto pulled Jack's badge from his pocket and slapped it on the counter. "Quickly, if you please," he said. "Unless you'd like vomit all over your Jimmy Choos. London drivers are bloody awful." He played up his Welsh accent to emphasize that he was from out of town and not enjoying it.

"Yes, sir, they can be," the clerk sympathized. She quickly pulled up a set of electronic keys for them. "Here you go, sir—eighth floor, room 816. Is there anything I can do for you, sir? To help?"

Jack just gave her a wide grin. "You've done great. Bit of jet lag, I just need sleep it off."

"You must get it bad, sir," she said, frowning in continued concern.

"I'll survive." Jack winked at her as Ianto tightened his hold on Jack's arm and pulled him toward the elevator. As soon as they stepped inside and the doors closed, Jack collapsed.

"No, no, no," Ianto said, leaning down next to him. "Don't do this to me, Jack. We're not there yet." The elevator wasn't moving fast enough, and Ianto swore as he felt Jack's pulse: it was weak, desperately weak.

With a loud ding, the doors opened onto the eighth floor, and Ianto literally dragged Jack to their room, thankful that there was no one in the corridor to see them. It was somewhat difficult to open the door with the unconscious man wrapped around him, but he managed, slamming it shut behind them and locking the deadbolt. Then he dragged Jack over to the king size bed—of course Jack would request a king, even half conscious—and laid him down before dropping his bag and dialing Owen's mobile again.

"Oi, teaboy," said the doctor when he finally answered. "I'm in the middle of something important and without any decent coffee, so what do you want?"

"Jack's been poisoned," Ianto said. He started searching around the room for something, anything, he could use to help Jack. There was nothing: it was a hotel. What could he possibly find in a hotel? He should have gone to the hospital.

"Tosh said he was Weevil hunting all day," said Owen, sounding both peevish and surprised. "What the hell happened?"

"We're in London," said Ianto, speaking quickly and quietly as he gazed out the window and then shut the blinds. "We were ambushed by three men in dark suits who shot some sort of dart into his arm. Poison, most likely."

"Shit." Ianto could almost imagine Owen sitting up straighter on the other end of the line. "All right, take a look at the wound. What do you see?"

Ianto pulled back Jack's shirts. "Nothing—there's nothing. There's barely a puncture wound. But whatever it was, it was strong and fast—quick paralysis, and his breathing is getting shallower and shallower."

"Bollocks! And you probably don't have an anti-toxin kit on you, do you?"

"Not today, no."

"A&E, then?" Owen asked.

"He wouldn't go," Ianto replied. Jack coughed then, and Ianto leaned closer. "Hang on."

"It's too late," Jack said, eyes closed. His hand somehow found Ianto's and squeezed with the barest amount of pressure. "I'm sorry, but it's too late."

"Too late?" came Owen's voice over the phone. "What does he mean, it's too late?"

Jack let out a long, shuddering breath. Ianto saw Jack's chest stop moving, felt his hand go slack on the bed. He stared, too shocked to even move.

"He's dead," Ianto finally told Owen. "Jack's dead."

* * *

Author's Note

I feel like I should apologize when I kill a main character, but I won't. It's Torchwood, it's Jack. Hope you're hooked, though. I'm having a lot of fun ruining Ianto's birthday. I feel like I should really make it up to him sometime with some fluffy smut or something. Or smutty fluff. Anything can I happen, I suppose. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate all the comments! :)


	4. Chapter Four

Ianto hung up the phone abruptly, telling Owen he'd call him back when he could. When it immediately rang again, he silenced it and tossed it on a nearby chair. Taking off his jacket, he began to pace the two-room suite, running a shaky hand through his hair as he tried to calm his racing, panicked thoughts and figure out what to do next.

Jack was dead.

He tried to tell himself it was okay. He had seen Jack die from a gunshot wound to the head and wake up gasping for life. He had watched Jack lie in the morgue, cold as ice, until days later he had reappeared, as alive as the rest of them. And he knew Jack had died during his time away with the Doctor, when he'd been held captive on board the _Valiant_.

But Ianto hadn't seen Jack die since then. He'd never been right there holding his hand, never experienced it so personally, so suddenly, and so _alone_ since Jack had come back and had asked him on a date. Now Jack was lying on the bed, eyes closed and lips already turning blue. He wasn't breathing, wasn't moving, wasn't there.

He was dead.

Ianto kicked at a chair, knocking it over and then swearing in bad Welsh when his foot started throbbing. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Just sit back and wait for Jack to come back to life? What about in the meantime? Make him comfortable? Was he hungry when he woke up? Thirsty? Tired?

Once again Ianto was overwhelmed by just how much he really didn't know about the man lying before him. Jack had been gone for months, but had come back a changed person, a man who had wanted more from Ianto than just the casual lonely-nights-at-the-Hub sex it had been until Jack had run off with his Doctor. He wanted dates—dinner and movies and late nights talking, shopping and cooking and of course, more sex. Even better sex, actually.

And it was good. It had taken several weeks for them to build that trust again—the attraction between them was never the problem—yet slowly but surely they had fallen into…well, a pattern. Maybe even a relationship, of some sort. Ianto wasn't sure what it was and wasn't sure if he'd ever know, given it was Jack. Jack Harkness was immortal; he had lived so many lives over the years that sometimes Ianto wondered if Jack ever really committed to anyone anymore, after losing so many people. Ianto was more afraid of losing Jack so soon after losing Lisa, even though he knew Jack couldn't die; rather, Ianto would grow old, and Jack would leave him again one day, continuing his immortal life with other lovers.

That was, if he came back this time. Ianto had no idea what had happened, what kind of poison had taken him down so quickly or how long it would take him to recover. Glancing at Jack, Ianto realized he needed to know more about the situation; he needed to do something, or he would go crazy just thinking and waiting. There was work to do—always work, including staying alive until Jack revived.

He arranged Jack as neatly as he could on the bed, taking off Jack's coat and shoes and even placing a blanket over him to keep his cooling body warm. Ianto poured himself a drink from the wet bar—a double, since it was Jack's account and still Ianto's birthday—then he took out his laptop, pulled up a chair at the foot the bed, and called Owen back.

"Tell me what the hell's going on, Ianto," Owen said without greeting. Ianto took a deep breath as he held the phone under his chin and logged into the hotel wi-fi, securing his connection so he could get onto the Torchwood servers remotely.

"We came to London," he began, then Owen interrupted him.

"Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker now the gang's all here."

"Ianto!" He heard Gwen's voice call. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine—almost got killed, but that's Torchwood for you. Follows you everywhere, I suppose." He laughed nervously, feeling slightly out of character, and took a deep sip of his drink, the whiskey burning his throat. He needed to be more in control, and he would, in time, but the truth was that he was completely freaked out at the moment. Maybe talking it out would help.

"All right, Jones. Start over."

"Jack and I came to London, to Canary Wharf. Or rather, I came and he invited himself along." Ianto wasn't sure why he added that last bit, even though it was partially true. He just wasn't ready for the others to get the wrong idea about him and Jack…or the right idea, depending. "We met a woman there who told us that someone was killing all the other survivors. She warned us about it, then told us to run."

"Did you?" asked Tosh. It was so good to hear her voice, Ianto finally started to relax. "Run?"

"We did. There appeared to be several suspicious suits around. Unfortunately they followed and trapped us between them. Their leader—at least, the first man we encountered and the only one who spoke—had a dart gun of some sort. Never seen it before, my guess is it was alien tech."

"And he shot Jack." That was Gwen again.

"He was aiming for me," said Ianto. "I'm the survivor. He said they were cleaning up."

"Cleaning up what?" asked Tosh, and Ianto shook his head in frustration even though he knew perfectly well they couldn't see him.

"I don't know. The other survivors. The woman was also from Torchwood, and she said more than half the survivors are dead now. It's only been a year. That's not a coincidence."

"Tosh, can you—" started Owen, but Tosh interrupted him.

"Already on it. I'll pull up all the survivor records and cross reference them with police records from the past year."

"Thanks Tosh," said Ianto. "I'm online, send them to me when you've got something. The woman we met was named Fiona. I remember her, she had just started with Lisa when…well, when." He left it off at that.

"Ianto, where's Jack?" asked Gwen. "Owen said he was hit. Is he all right?"

"Well, not exactly," said Ianto, glancing at Jack, who still hadn't moved. "He's dead, actually. It was some kind of fast acting poison dart. We barely made it to a hotel. Jack wouldn't go to the A&E. I suppose his condition makes it a bit complicated."

"His condition?" asked Tosh, clicking away on her computer.

"The coming back from the dead condition, remember?" answered Owen. "Bit hard to explain that to the NHS, don't you think?"

"Right. Ianto, so far I've found as least half a dozen recent deaths among the survivors," said Tosh, sending him some encrypted files. It only took him moments to open them and scan the contents.

"So it's true," Ianto murmured. "Bloody hell, it's true."

"All right, we need to get to the bottom of this," said Gwen. "We can't have you walking around London with a target on your back."

"I'm not going anywhere until Jack wakes up."

"That's right," said Owen, his voice both gentle and strict. "Just stay right where you are. We'll do some more research over here and keep you updated. Meanwhile, you need to keep yourself safe if someone's after you. You've got your gun, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. They might come after you again to finish the job. Use it if you have to."

"I already did. I hit the man who shot Jack. Probably why he didn't get off a second shot." Ianto shuddered to think what might have happened if the dart had hit him. He'd be dead at Jack's side…with no chance of waking up.

"Good shot, then," said Owen. "I'd say we could check hospital records to see if anyone matching his description comes in, but—"

"—but men like him don't go to hospitals," finished Ianto. "This was definitely not an every day mugging. It was covert, as if they were just waiting for us."

"Did anyone know you were going to London, Ianto?" asked Gwen.

"Just Tosh." There was silence on the other end of the line before he could hear Tosh talking to Owen and Gwen.

"What?" she said. "He emailed me about it just yesterday." There was a pause. "Do you think they hacked our system?" she suddenly asked.

"Either that, or they just wait at Canary Wharf for survivors to show up," Ianto replied. "Can you look into it?"

"If anyone was reading my email, a dozen alerts should have gone off," Tosh replied, sounding angry. "If there's a hole, I'll find it."

"Thanks, Tosh." Ianto paused to take another drink. "What I don't get is the gun, why alien tech, why—"

"Why poison?" finished Owen. "That's just damn odd when they could use a bullet."

"Less to cover up if it looks like I just died from a stroke or something," Ianto murmured, thinking of the many times he'd had to cover up a suspicious death.

"Well, I really wish you had an anti-toxin kit with you."

"I didn't want my mechanic wondering why I had all sorts of alien drugs in the boot of my car last time I took it in," Ianto snapped, wishing the same thing. "So I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do unless you can recommend something at the local pharmacy."

"Just don't get shot, mate."

"Sod off."

"All right, settle down," said Gwen. "Ianto, I know you're upset, but it'll be all right. Owen, is there anything Ianto can do to counteract the poison if he is hit?"

"Without knowing what it is, there's nothing I can recommend, no. Unless Jack sucks it out like a snakebite."

Ianto let out a nervous bark. "Right. Not going to happen. I'm not letting him go through that again. He's got only a tiny puncture wound in his shoulder, but whatever it was, it started to paralyze him almost immediately. He was gone in less than twenty minutes."

He could almost hear Owen thinking over the mobile. "Seriously, Ianto. Be careful. Lock the door, don't open it for anyone, and stay away from windows. If these guys are taking out survivors and missed you, they'll be back, and probably with something stronger than a dart gun."

"Don't you think I know that?" Ianto grumbled, finishing his drink in one last pull. "But I can't stay holed up here forever."

"What hotel are you at?" asked Gwen. "We could come and get you."

Ianto almost rolled his eyes. "Gwen, anyone could be listening, although I'm sure it'd be easy enough to track us through Jack or the CCTV." The thought sent a rush of panic through him, and he stood to double-check the deadbolt.

"If they're listening, they can certainly trace the signal," said Tosh. He could hear her still clicking away at her computer. "Which is why I scrambled it as soon as Owen put it on speakerphone. I'll get on to the CCTV footage."

"Thank you, Tosh." Ianto sighed. Like him, she thought of the details. "So, have you found anything else?"

"Yes, it's almost half the survivors, just like you said. All have died within the last six months. I'm actually surprised the computer didn't pick it up and flag it for us."

Ianto thought about it. "Maybe it was tampered with," he said, a black thought starting in the back of his mind. "If someone got a hold of our email…" he trailed off.

"The only people who could tamper with records and software like that would be UNIT or…" Now it was Tosh's turn to leave her sentence unfinished.

"Torchwood," finished Ianto.

"You think one of us is going around killing the survivors of Canary Wharf?" asked Owen, sounded disgusted.

"No, you muppet," said Gwen, and Ianto could almost imagine her punching Owen's arm. "One of the other survivors."

"They'd have the experience and knowledge, not to mention the security codes," said Ianto. "I'd hate to think so, but we have to assume it's possible. Especially since that dart gun did not look familiar. It could be UNIT, or someone could have knicked it from Torchwood One."

"Well, to find a killer, you need a motive." Gwen went into police mode, which was probably what they needed. "So why would someone try to kill you?"

"I heard someone was upset I didn't make the coffee this morning," Ianto murmured, and Owen snorted on the other end of the line.

"And you are forgiven as long as you get back here alive and make it up to me."

"Right." Ianto sat down and stared at his laptop, at a loss. "Tosh, keep sending everything you have on the other survivors. I'll go through it and see if I can't find anything. I was there, after all. I may not have known them all, but I might see something, some connection no one else can."

"Right. I'm trying to pull up footage of the attack, but it looks like someone else got to it first."

"Which means we're definitely dealing with someone who knows what they're doing," said Ianto, his heart sinking.

"Someone good," Tosh agreed, "but we're better, don't worry." There was a pause. "How are you holding up? Is Jack awake yet?"

Ianto glanced at Jack. "No, not yet, and I'm fine. I want to get started on these files, though. Thanks for taking care of things. I'll call you back after I've gone through them."

"Hang in there, Jones," said Owen, once again surprising Ianto with his compassion. "Jack'll wake up, and we'll figure out who's trying to kill you before they do."

"Yeah, Owen can't live without your coffee, so he's all over it," added Gwen. Ianto could almost picture the supportive smile on her face, and Owen rolling his eyes this time.

"Thanks," Ianto replied, knowing they were trying to make him feel better. "I'll get back to you soon."

"Be careful," said Gwen, genuine concern in her voice.

"I will. Bye."

Ianto hung up the mobile and set down his laptop. He checked on Jack, but there was no change, so he went to the loo, washed his face in a useless attempt to do something to make himself feel less stressed, and sat back down, pulling out a snack and picking up the laptop as he waited for Jack to revive.

Yet one file in, and he couldn't concentrate, and he wasn't really hungry. Jack was lying next to him on the bed, dead. _Dead._ Bloody hell, he was sleeping with a dead man. Yet Jack also a man who couldn't actually die. If it wasn't so insane, Ianto thought he could cry. But he'd seen some strange things at Torchwood, and right then all he could do was laugh, albeit slightly hysterically given he was on the run from dangerous assassins with alien tech in a posh hotel with a dead body.

He decided he needed to just lie down. The emotional rollercoaster of seeing Canary Wharf again, of telling Jack his story, combined with the adrenaline high of the past hour had left him feeling drained, so he closed his laptop and got onto the bed with Jack. He didn't feel as cold, or perhaps that was just the blanket. Propping himself up against several pillows, Ianto gently pulled Jack up between his legs, laying Jack's head on his chest and wrapping his arms around the man's broad shoulders. He let his own head fall back as he sat there, but refused to let the tears fall.

Jack would come back. It was what he did. Ianto had to trust that, and then he'd have to figure out what the hell to do about the men trying to kill him before they actually managed it.

He'd almost started to doze off when suddenly Jack gasped, jerked in his arms, and struggled to sit up. Ianto loosened his embrace to let the man have space, but Jack grabbed him and clung to him instead, so that Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack once more, feeling Jack's heart race under his hands.

"It's all right, you're all right," Ianto babbled senselessly. "You're back, you're alive…Jesus, Jack, you're actually _alive…_" He couldn't go on and willed the tears pricking at his eyes not to fall. He had to be strong for Jack; he could only imagine how hard it was to die and come back to life, and he would not let Jack see how much it scared him.

"Ianto?" Jack finally asked, though he did not turn around. "Are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"I'm fine," Ianto soothed. "Thanks to you." It suddenly occurred to him that Jack had saved his life knowing full well that nothing would hurt him. The thought made Ianto slightly sick, that Jack could throw himself in front of just about anything to save Ianto and wake up a few hours later hardly the worse for wear.

"What happened after I fell?" asked Jack, interrupting his thoughts. "It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Well, I hit the man with the fancy gun before he could take another shot. He ran off, although it was probably because you'd taken down his other goons so fast you scared the shit out of him." Jack breathed in a silent laugh.

"Where are we again?" he asked, slowly sitting up and turning to face Ianto. He glanced around the spacious rooms. "Oh. The Four Seasons." And then he grinned, just like Jack again. "King size bed. Nice."

"You asked for the suite," Ianto laughed, relief flooding through him as he gazed into Jack's eyes, saw the color returning to his pale face. "And I have to admit I did open the wet bar."

"Yeah, well, go ahead. I'm not used to so much space, so I take advantage of it when I can." He suddenly leaned in and kissed Ianto, long and hard, and Ianto let himself sink into it, too relieved that Jack was alive to care that there was still someone out there trying to kill him, someone they had to find and stop before even more people died.

"Thank you," Jack finally said, pulling away. "For getting me out of there, for staying with me."

Ianto didn't know what to say. He ran his hand through Jack's hair and felt the tears prickle at his eyes again, though he still held them in. "I'm just glad you came back," he murmured.

"I always do," Jack said. "And I always will. Especially if I wake up in your arms." And to Ianto's surprise, Jack turned around and snuggled back down against him with a content but weary sigh. Ianto smiled to himself.

"Is it tiring, coming back?" he asked, idly rubbing Jack's arms as he held him. He felt Jack nod against him.

"Depends on what happened. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I'm up and ready, others I stumble around a bit. Poison…yeah, poison is not fun. But I'll be all right."

"Do you know what kind of poison it was?" Ianto asked. "I talked to Owen, but without any real information, he couldn't tell me anything other than to not get shot."

"Good advice," laughed Jack. "It felt alien, though, and that dart gun was not earth technology."

"No, I didn't think so either," agreed Ianto, dreading what that meant. Not many people on the planet had access to extraterrestrial technology, so their suspect list had definitely been narrowed.

Jack was silent. "How long was I out?" he asked softly.

Ianto glanced at the clock. "A few hours. I should probably call the Hub and let them know you're awake."

"So you told them where we were, what was going on?" Jack glanced up at him.

"Of course I did. They're on it already."

"On what?" Jack asked.

"Trying to figure out who did this."

"Right." There was another pause. "And why. I just can't figure out why anyone would want twenty-seven innocent survivors of Canary Wharf dead."

"Me neither," replied Ianto. "Tosh sent me files on all of them, along with the police reports of all those who have died. I tried to go through them, but didn't get far. Been a long day already."

Jack sighed as he sat up. "Tell me about it. Well, let's do some reading, then. Maybe get some room service? I'm starving."

Ianto nodded as he reached over for the phone. "Sounds good. Exactly how I wanted to spend my birthday, trying to figure out who wants to kill me with alien blow darts."

Jack patted his knee. "Could be worse."

"How's that then?" Ianto asked. Really, he could think of far worse things, had experienced them tenfold. He was just curious what Jack would say.

A grin crept across Jack's face. "Could be evil flying monkeys in vests on Boxing Day."

Which didn't make any sense at all, and Ianto laughed as some of the tension left him, glad that Jack was there with him after all.

* * *

Author's Note:

I don't usually post such quick updates, but there seemed to be some confusion after the last chapter so I thought I'd follow up on it quickly. This story is set during season two, so yes, everyone knows about Jack's resurrection ability. In my mind, that doesn't mean they wouldn't try to help him anyway, or be concerned. I'm sure it's still very new to them all. So I hope this clears it up. I liked writing this chapter, so I also hoped you enjoyed the update!


	5. Chapter Five

Two hours, three cheeseburgers, a basket of chips, and several milkshakes later (who knew a spot of coffee made them even better?) Jack sat up and stretched. Aside from eating, he'd spent most of the time lying in bed, just letting his strength come back. He didn't let on to Ianto just how hard the poison had hit him, how horrible it had felt when he'd been hit, his muscles contracting almost instantly. It had been hard to move, hard to talk, hard to breathe. The feeling of helplessness had been almost as bad as the pain of some of the more gruesome deaths he'd experienced; knowing Ianto was watching it at his side had made it worse.

So while Ianto sat at his laptop and either worked silently or thought out loud, Jack let his body rest while his mind tried to process what Ianto was telling him.

Out of twenty-seven documented survivors of the Battle of Canary Wharf, two had died several months later from wounds suffered in the battle, and three others had eventually committed suicide. Five had gone to work for UNIT, and there were three in various government offices, four if one counted Ianto's position with Torchwood. There was the girl that had warned them to run, Fiona Stewart, which left only a dozen others who had simply melted away into a mostly invisible civilian life: working beneath their ability, retired, jobless, even institutionalized. Only those few who had taken the Retcon offered to them all were in any sort of positive state, and even that was still a far cry from their jobs at Torchwood London, their lives before the Daleks and Cybermen had destroyed everything.

According to what Tosh had found, Fiona was right: far too many of the twenty-two left had died for it to be a coincidence. You didn't have to be a member of Torchwood or even a rookie inspector to see it: they were being taken down, one by one with an eye for diverting attention, making it appear as normal as possible so that no one asked questions.

One of the government workers had died in his sleep, his official cause of death never found but attributed to his heart even though he was not yet forty. A UNIT officer had somehow died in the field from friendly fire, and eight more civilians had been killed by car crashes or other strange accidents and illnesses. Jack wondered if any of them involved the poison dart that had been fired at Ianto: paralysis could be involved in any number of accidents, and then covered up easily, particularly if the poison dissipated in the bloodstream or was of alien origin and therefore unrecognizable.

Rolling his shoulders (he could still feel the pinprick of the dart, that was odd), Jack finished his milkshake and stood. He felt the nervous energy building within him and needed to pace after lying down for so long. Plus it would help him think.

"All right. We've got twenty-seven survivors, twenty-two of whom were still alive six months ago. Now there are only twelve. One dozen, including you. Why?"

"There is literally nothing that links these people other than Torchwood One," Ianto replied, leaning back in the chair where he'd been hunched over his computer. Jack walked over and started massaging Ianto's tight shoulders. "I've gone over everything Tosh sent, and I can't see a thing otherwise."

"So it definitely has to do with them being Torchwood survivors, just like your friend Fiona said." Ianto closed his eyes and leaned into Jack's arms.

"I only met her a few times that week. The past has not been kind to her," he murmured.

"She seemed scared, but not for herself, for us."

"She said she'd warned the others. But if others are being killed, why not her?" asked Ianto.

"Because she's a part of it?" Jack replied. This was what they did so well, bounced questions and answers, problems and solutions off one another. This was what he had missed and wanted and craved while he had been away. They would figure this out; he was not losing Ianto now to some crazy psychopath bent on murdering the victims of one horrific tragedy already.

"She hardly seemed capable of kicking a dog, let alone killing a man," Ianto replied. "And she was certainly not with the men in suits. There was at least one who went after her."

"Maybe she sent the others after us."

"Maybe." Ianto didn't seem convinced, and Jack couldn't blame him. He didn't want to believe the burned, broken woman they'd met could be a part of it either. Yet she obviously knew something, and their path was becoming clear.

"We need to talk to her again," said Jack, stepping back. Ianto turned to look up at him skeptically.

"How do you propose that when it's quite likely the moment I step out of this hotel I'll have a dart in my neck—or a bullet in my back?"

"I'll go talk to her. They're not really after me, and they can't hurt me anyway," said Jack, earning himself a reproachful look from Ianto that he ignored. Fiona had hardly glanced at Jack when they had met; either she was afraid of him or interested only in Ianto. Yet they certainly couldn't risk Ianto going out, so there was little choice if they were to move forward: she was their only source of real information.

"By talk do you mean interrogate?" Ianto asked. "Because I think she'd be far more likely to talk to me than she would to you."

"What, I can be nice," Jack protested. He had to work hard at it sometimes, but he could. When he wanted to—when lives weren't in danger.

"Not with questions," Ianto replied dryly. "And not with suspects. Need I remind you about Beth?"

"Yeah, well, I was right about her, wasn't I?"

"That's not the point. Bring Fiona back here so I can talk to her. She knows me."

Jack nodded. "All right. I'll text you to meet us downstairs. I don't want to bring her up here."

"I'll call the Hub, let them know what's going on," Ianto said. "Which is basically nothing, but maybe they'll have something better." He stood up to walk to the door with Jack, helping him into his coat and touching him on the arm before he left. "They're probably watching, you know. Don't get shot again."

"Same to you. Stay here and be careful."

Ianto sighed. "More birthday fun, alone in a posh hotel suite by myself."

Jack kissed him fiercely. "We'll figure this out and celebrate some other day, nicest place in Cardiff if you want. Right now I just want to keep you alive and stop these people from taking out anyone else. You Torchwood folks deserve to live after all you went through and lost."

Ianto gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, Jack. Good luck finding her. I'll see you in a few."

Jack left and waited until he heard the deadlock click behind him. He took the elevator down to the lobby, where the blond woman at the desk was apparently still on duty. She glanced up at him and smiled.

"You look much better, sir," she said, sounding genuinely pleased.

"Told you I just needed to sleep it off. I'm ready to explore at bit."

"Will you need a cab?" she asked. "James can call you one if you wish."

Jack glanced outside: it was late afternoon and it wasn't raining, so he could walk the mile down to Torchwood One. He just hoped he'd be able to find Fiona lurking somewhere, especially after what had happened to him and Ianto. Yet he had a feeling the men in suits didn't want to harm her, because she had been able to warn them, had already warned others. He didn't necessarily think she was involved, but she was the only one who knew anything.

It didn't take long for him to find her. Apparently she had not been scared off for long by the men in black suits. Either that, or she was working for them and waiting for the next survivor to come visit the ruins of their former life.

She was well hidden, though. Discreetly staying in the background, away from the working crowds getting off their jobs. Eyes darting nervously around, scanning for who knew what—more suits, more survivors. Jack watched her for a while, glancing around for any more suits before moving toward her. When she saw him, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth.

"No, no, no," she said, backing away from him. "He's dead, isn't he? They've killed him too. I tried to warn you, to tell you. You should have run!" She turned, but he grabbed her thin wrist as gently as he could.

"He's not dead," Jack said softly so no one passing by could hear. "He's all right. He wants to talk to you. I want to talk to you. We can help."

She shook her head and twisted from his grasp. "You can't help. You can't stop him."

"Who?" asked Jack, but she refused to answer. He tried another tactic, remembering Ianto's words.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Come back with me. You can see Ianto, have something to eat." Her eyes were still wide, like a skittish colt. He stepped forward and held up his palms. "I promise you'll be safe."

She finally nodded and reached out for him. She was so thin, so scared, it made him angry that Torchwood had done this to her, and that someone was now killing these people who had somehow survived against all odds. Then again, for some life might not have been much worth living…but that was their choice. It should not be taken from them.

They walked back toward the river, Fiona staying close to Jack now as she gazed anxiously around the area. Jack kept his own lookout, wondering whether he would be attacked again or if they were only after survivors like Ianto. But how then had Fiona survived for so long?

As she was still clinging to his arm, he decided to ask her.

"How come you're still alive?" he asked softly. "Don't they come for you?" She glanced at him with wide eyes. "Or are you that good at running and hiding?"

She shook her head. "He won't kill me. He can't."

Jack filed away the mysterious 'he' once more. So whatever was happening was down to one man, and Fiona knew who this man was. But what exactly did 'can't' mean?

"He can't kill you or he won't kill you?" Jack asked, and Fiona sighed as she hugged herself, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Both."

Now there was a mystery. Jack wrapped his arm around the miserable girl once more as they reached Westferry Circus. He took out his phone to text Ianto, letting him know that they would meet him in the hotel lounge in a few minutes. A nice inconspicuous table in the back.

He expected Ianto to reply immediately. When there was no answer, he sent a second message and picked up his pace, forcing Fiona to almost run to keep up. He had a terrible feeling in his gut; he shouldn't have left Ianto alone.

When there was still no reply, Jack called, waiting for Ianto to pick up ring after ring until it went to voice mail. He swore at the phone, grabbed Fiona's hand, and pulled her into a run down the street toward the hotel.

Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

Author's Note:

Short chapter, but the next one picks up again. And you've got a cliffhanger in the meantime, those are always fun! I'll try to update before Ianto's birthday, but I did start a fluffy one shot in his honor that I'll be working on this weekend. Either way, see you August 19th and thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter Six

Ianto sat back down at his computer, but found himself staring at the same screen, the same information he'd been staring at for hours, and he suddenly couldn't take any more. Normally he wouldn't mind being alone in a nice hotel room almost as big as his flat, but somehow the thought that he couldn't leave without possibly being killed made him restless, and he wanted to be out there with Jack, trying to figure out what was going on.

It still made no sense. Why would someone be carefully killing off the twenty-seven survivors of Torchwood One? Was it personal, professional? Part of a plot to cover-up something much bigger? If so, was Torchwood Three in danger? That particular thought made Ianto reach for his phone and quickly dial Tosh's number.

"Ianto, hi," she said. Again he heard her clicking away in the background; she sounded rushed.

"Everything all right there?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." It didn't sound like it, though.

"Tosh, what's going on? Tell me."

"It's nothing, Ianto. We've just had a nasty Weevil sighting in Victoria Park, though, so I'm trying to cover it up while Gwen and Owen go after it."

"Usual story?" he asked, grateful for the distraction, however dangerous it might be for Gwen and Owen at the moment.

"Usual story," she said. "Just tweaking some CCTV footage right now. Again."

"All right, I'll leave you to it, then. Jack's gone out to try and find the woman who warned us, so we can—" He stopped as he heard a sound outside the door. "Hang on, I'll call you back."

"Ianto, is everything—" He cut her off, setting down his mobile and picking up his gun from next to his laptop. Slowly he walked over to the door and peered through the eyehole. There was a knock at exactly the same moment that made him jump.

"Room service," said a voice. Chancing another look, Ianto saw one of the hotel workers in the corridor. It was not the same woman who had brought their food earlier, but a man dressed in similar clothing. He was wearing a porter's hat, with large glasses and a beard that hid much of face. The problem was, Ianto hadn't called for room service, and the hat and glasses looked like a bad disguise if there ever was one.

"Wrong room," Ianto called through the door, pulling the safety on his gun. "I didn't order anything."

"I'm hear to pick up the dishes, sir," said the man. For some reason, his voice sounded familiar, though Ianto couldn't place it other than as from somewhere near Glasgow, and that made him even more nervous. "We usually collect a few hours later."

Ianto had assumed they'd simply set the tray outside. "Can I see your ID?" he asked. The man looked confused as he held up a badge.

"Of course, sir." It appeared normal, so slowly Ianto undid the deadbolt. Standing behind the door with his gun at his back, Ianto slowly pulled it open, his muscles tense and ready for an attack. He probably shouldn't be letting this man in, but some small, likely stupid part of his brain had decided that if the man were there to kill him, perhaps he could overpower the bastard first and get some answers.

The worker stepped in slowly, looking around with his hands raised. "Ianto Jones?" he said softly. Ianto's instincts flew into overdrive. He stepped forward and put his gun to the man's temple while slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Who wants to know?" he growled.

"Ewan MacDaniel," the man said, turning slowly toward Ianto with his hands still up. "I'm Torchwood." He reached slowly for his hat and glasses, and Ianto let his hands fall with a gasp as he recognized the man.

"Ewan?" he asked. "What the hell is going on? Don't tell me you're involved in all this?"

Ewan MacDaniel had been one of the eight who had gone for help at Canary Wharf, and one of six who had survived. Ianto had fought side by side with him as they had made their way downstairs, but had rarely given him a thought after finding Lisa and pouring all his energy into saving her. Now MacDaniel was standing here, in Ianto's hotel room, one of the few survivors who had gone to work in the government, with the Home Office.

Ewan held out his hand, yet Ianto was leery of taking it. Ewan looked different than he had a year ago, but then, Ianto was fairly sure he did as well. MacDaniel was in his thirties but looked older, early grey at his temples likely testament to the trauma of Canary Wharf. His eyes had the same haunted look Ianto saw in the mirror some mornings.

Letting his hand fall, Ewan nodded in understanding. "Right. You don't know whether you can trust me. You can."

"That's what you'd say if I could trust you," Ianto replied, and Ewan grinned. Ianto had a vivid memory of that same grin as they raced down a corridor, the last one they needed to clear to freedom. God, had it only been a year?

"Ianto Jones, dry and skeptical as ever," Ewan laughed. "But I assure you, I'm not here to kill you." Ianto didn't respond. "Because someone's already tried, haven't they?"

"How do you know?"

"Because we caught it on the CCTV before your team erased it." Ianto's eyes widened the slightest, and Ewan waved his hand. "Don't worry, we know they do. You've got good people in Cardiff."

"My people didn't erase it," Ianto said. "It was already gone."

Ewan stared at him. "Damn, then these bastards are even better than I thought."

"What bastards?" asked Ianto. "Ewan, what's going on? I saw Fiona Stewart, and she said half of the survivors of Canary Wharf are dead. Each one slightly different, but still suspicious."

"I know. I met her in June, that's when I found out. I would have expected the computers to flag it before then, but apparently—"

"—someone's been tampering with the records," Ianto finished. Ewan gave him a long look, as if contemplating how much he could say.

"Someone who knows Torchwood," he said softly, and Ianto felt his heart sink as he nodded in agreement. "Maybe even one of us."

"Do you know who?" asked Ianto.

Ewan shook his head. "There's only twelve of us left now, so that definitely narrows it down. I have my suspicions, but once I saw you were involved, I was hoping Torchwood Three might have some ideas. Figured that was why you were here."

"I just found out today. Why didn't you contact us sooner?" Ianto finally lowered his guard. His instincts told him Ewan was telling the truth, and right then he needed to trust someone. If Jack returned with Fiona, hopefully they would all be able to figure out what was going on and stop it.

"Didn't want to put you in danger," said Ewan. He glanced around the room—bit of a mess, really—then gazed at Ianto with something almost akin to fondness. They'd only really known each other casually, but shooting aliens off someone's back usually formed a bond of some sort. Ewan stepped forward and embraced Ianto, who returned it with a bit of surprised relief.

"It's good to see you, Jones. I always wondered how you were doing. Only one to actually go back to Torchwood." He paused and studied Ianto. "How did you manage it when Three hated us so much? And how can you stand it? I've heard Harkness is a real arsehole."

Ianto shrugged, hiding a smile at both the way Torchwood London had once viewed its Cardiff branch, as well as the generally accepted opinion of Jack. "It's a long story. I'll tell you if we survive this. Now, what do you know? Or what do you think you know?"

"Jackson and Domhall are dead," Ewan said. They were two of the men who had made it out with them. "Roberts and Finch are alive, but Roberts is out of the country so that probably saved her life. As for who's doing this…my best guess at this point is someone in U.N.I.T."

"From the tech they're using, I'd have to agree. Only U.N.I.T. would have access to it." Ianto frowned. "But why would U.N.I.T. want to kill people from at Canary Wharf? Especially if it's one of us?"

"Five went to U.N.I.T," replied Ewan, running a hand across his beard. "One of them is dead. That leaves four others from Torchwood London."

"One of whom is a glorified secretary, another of whom is on assignment on the Valiant," said Ianto, recalling all the records he had trolled that afternoon. "Which just leaves Katherine Young and Michael Ian Collins, and she's back in research and recovery, if I remember."

"_Commander_ Collins isn't, though," Ewan replied. "He moved through officer training fast."

"He was a scientist," Ianto protested. "Not a soldier. He was lead scientist on the ghost shifts. He developed the technology to control the gateway, let them through." Ianto felt his lips curl into a slight sneer at the memory. He had always hated the ghost shifts. It had felt wrong, alien, threatening. Yet Michael Collins had been convinced the beings were not dangerous, and Yvonne Hartmann had been even more convinced that they could somehow harness the energy involved to make Britain an oil-independent world power.

How wrong they had been. How unjust that Collins had survived when so many others had died.

"He lost an arm, you know," Ewan said softly, as if reading Ianto's thoughts. Ianto focused his gaze back on the man in front of him.

"We all lost something that day, thanks to him. I'm not grieving for his bloody arm."

Ewan shrugged. "Me neither. I'm just saying. Maybe it drove him mad."

"And he's been hiding it from U.N.I.T. all this time?" asked Ianto skeptically. If Collins or Young were a part of whatever was happening, then U.N.I.T. had to be as well. And yet once more Ianto could not understand why they would want to kill so many people. Or why they hadn't killed Ianto on any number of occasions already since that horrible day. It was no secret he worked for Torchwood Three, after all…

"How did you get in here?" Ianto asked, suddenly curious about Ewan. He worked for the Home Office, but that didn't usually imply spy training and covert infiltration. The man grinned that same grin Ianto remembered from the battle.

"I was wondering when you'd ask about that. It was easy enough to track you down once we knew you were in town. My MI-5 contact got me the uniform and ID badge. She wanted to come up, but I knew you'd recognize me and figured I should be the one to talk to you." Which was exactly what Ianto had told Jack about speaking to Fiona.

"So MI-5 knows?" asked Ianto. The thought that the British security service was involved did not sit well with him, for some reason. He couldn't pinpoint why, other than as a member of Torchwood it had become increasingly difficult for him to trust the government—even more so after the events of that afternoon.

"When I first considered that U.N.I.T. might be involved, I went to Frobisher and asked to bring them in." Ewan shrugged. "Seemed better than going to my main suspect for help."

"Right," said Ianto. "So what—" He was interrupted when his mobile went off, followed by Ewan's. They looked at one another in surprise.

Ianto had a text from Jack; he'd found Fiona and was heading back to the hotel. When he glanced up, Ewan was white-faced as he glanced at his own screen.

"They're here," he whispered, pulling on his hat and glasses and grabbing Ianto by the arm. "They're here for you—or me. Both of us. We've got to get out."

Ianto saw panic in the man's eyes…there was a sharp ping as something shattered a hole in the glass of the window…and then Ewan's panic flared and died as a bullet flew straight through his upper chest and into Ianto's shoulder, sending both of them staggering. Before either man could react, a second bullet flew through the hole and hit Ewan in the back of the head, sending blood and gore all over Ianto. One former Torchwood survivor fell to the floor, dazed and wounded; the other collapsed in a puddle of his own blood, dead.

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm aware a shot like that is highly unlikely, or that any earthly weapon attempting it would probably cause more damage. Minimal research into sniper rifles only has me guessing that two gunmen _could_ accomplish it with the right weapon. But I'm not trying to get published here, and if Ian Fleming can write it, then I'm going with it too.

Also, I really, really like cliffhangers. Sorry/not sorry.


	7. Chapter Seven

Jack burst into the Four Seasons and ran straight to the elevator, literally dragging Fiona behind him. He ignored the woman behind the desk welcoming him back and pushed the button a dozen times, knowing it never brought the elevator down quicker but also knowing he was not yet ready to run up eight flights of stairs to fight a possible assassin.

Thankfully, it didn't take long, and he pulled Fiona in and hit the button for the eighth floor, taking out his Webley as he tried not to think about what he might find. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he ran down the hallway, stuck his electronic key in the door as fast as he could with shaking hands, and pushed it open.

It stopped, the deadbolt set.

Jack swore and shouted for Ianto. No answer. His heart was racing…something was definitely wrong…so he took a deep breath and kicked the door open as hard as he could, hotel charges be damned. He had to get in, had to get to Ianto…

The door flew open, Jack ran in, and almost tripped over a body. A dead body.

Even though he had seen hundreds if not thousands of dead bodies over his lifetime, the sight of one on the floor of his hotel room shocked him. He threw himself backward, away from the blood pooling on the floor.

It was not Ianto, thank god.

He bumped into Fiona, who gasped and began to whimper when she saw the body. Gathering his wits, Jack slammed the door shut, gave her the quiet sign as he raised his gun again, and stepped around the man on the floor, searching for Ianto.

The suite had two rooms, a front sitting room and back bedroom. Making his way toward the bedroom, Jack tried not to think about what he might find. There was no sign of any other struggle, but he could not see Ianto. The bathroom door was shut. His heart pounding, Jack stepped quietly toward the door, his Webley up, hand reaching toward the knob, when suddenly the door flew open, and he found a semiautomatic in his own face.

"Jesus, Jack!" Ianto gasped, letting his arm fall—left arm, why was he using his left arm? He was shirtless, his head and face wet and a towel at his right shoulder slowly turning red with blood. He set the gun down on the sink with a muttered curse and put pressure on what was obviously a gunshot wound, wincing as he did. Jack didn't know whether to grab him and squeeze the life out of him, or yell at him for getting shot in the short time he had been alone.

After staring at Ianto for a bit too long as he tried to get his bearings and calm his racing heart, Jack finally went for the former, stepping forward and pulling him into a careful and hopefully composed embrace as he kissed Ianto's head. Ianto winced at first, then relaxed against him. "What the hell happened?" Jack asked.

"I got shot," said Ianto, stepping back with his hand still to his shoulder. "Passed out. Came in here to wash up."

"Obviously. Who's the dead guy?" Jack jerked his head toward the man on the floor. Fiona had followed Jack and curled up on the bed, where she was crying silently. Ianto saw her and ignored the question, rushing over to her instead.

"Shh," he said, taking her in an embrace. "It's all right. It'll be okay." She clung to him as he ran his good hand through her hair before turning to answer Jack.

"He's another survivor, Ewan MacDaniel. He was one of the five I made it out with. He works for the Home office now and came to see me about the murders."

Jack glanced down at the dead man. "Did he try to kill you?" When Ianto shook his head, Jack frowned. "So who killed him then?"

Ianto pointed toward the window, where Jack saw a very precise hole in the blinds and bits of glass on the floor. "I'd guess whomever tried to kill me. Again."

"Shit," said Jack. He was temped to walk over and examine it, but he knew it would be risky if the shooter was still out there, though that seemed unlikely at this point. And he knew without looking that whatever had made that kind of shot with that kind of precision was a powerful rifle with a expert marksman behind it. "So no more poison darts."

"They had a chance to take out two of us," Ianto replied, his voice laced with pain. "I doubt poison darts would pierce the window particularly well."

"Yeah, that's a high precision sniper rifle," Jack agreed. "Could even be alien for a shot like that."

"Three shots," Ianto said absently, patting Fiona on the back and standing up to return slowly to the bathroom. "These people are fast, Jack. Too fast. How did they know we were in London? How did they get here and get in place so quickly?"

"I don't know. We really have find out who they are, though. We need to be able to stay one step ahead while we figure this out." Jack stepped toward Ianto and tentatively reached toward the bloody towel on his shoulder. Ianto grimaced as Jack took it off, frowning at the injury to Ianto's shoulder. "But first we need to get you fixed up. I'm surprised you're even standing." He began to clean the wound as best as he could.

"It was a quick shot, straight through," said Ianto, staring blankly into the mirror. "Well, straight through Ewan and then me. Bullet is probably still in the wall." Jack almost shuddered at the matter-of-fact tone to in Ianto's voice. But he was right: the wound was direct and seemed to have exited without too much damage as far as Jack could see. There was a lot of blood, but Ianto was still moving his arm even though it must have hurt like hell. He was incredibly lucky, yet Jack noticed how pale the man looked; Ianto was strong, but eventually a bullet would put anyone down if they didn't stop the bleeding, stabilize the wound, and prevent an infection from starting.

"You need some bandages. And painkillers. Lots of painkillers."

"I need a new shirt," Ianto murmured. He picked up his maroon shirt from where he had dropped it on the toilet. "Bullet hole and a lot of…other stuff." Jack saw the blood and other matter and nodded as Ianto tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and continued to hold the towel to his shoulder. He walked back into the bedroom to check on on Fiona, but she wasn't paying them any attention, still rocking to herself on the bed, and he sat with her, murmuring softly.

"Okay," Jack said, beginning to pace again. "This is what we'll do. There's some shops back down Colonade, I'll run there and get what you need—bandages, medicine, shirts. Or I'll send someone, that's probably better. In the meantime, we need to…"

"We need to clean up the body," Ianto interrupted. "Which is usually my job, I'm the body man. Only how am I supposed to do that without any of the Hub's resources? While someone is still trying to kill me?" Ianto stared at the man on the floor; Jack could tell he was upset but covering it up in that remarkable way Ianto had that let very little through, even in pain. Until he cracked.

"We need help," said Jack simply. "We need to call Tosh, for one, and get her to work on any footage, phone calls, or anything else suspicious. And you said your friend was from the Home office, right?"

Ianto nodded and ran a hand through his wet hair. He was still shirtless, and starting to shiver, so Jack went to the closet and found a spare blanket to wrap around him before he went into shock.

"I'll just get blood on it," Ianto murmured as he stood and started to head back to the bathroom, sounding weak and lightheaded. He stumbled, and Jack led him to a chair instead, sitting him down and wondering what the hell to do next. He felt trapped in a way he rarely felt trapped: out of Cardiff, away from his team, with a very determined assassin apparently able to track their every move.

Ianto leaned his head back and continued. "And yes, Ewan works…worked in the Home office. He didn't want to go to UNIT in case they were in on it, so he went to Frobisher in order to get an MI5 contact. That's how he got in here."

"Through MI5?" asked Jack, surprised. "How?"

"Got him a hotel uniform and badge," Ianto said, his voice soft as his eyes closed. "That's why I let him in. I figured if he was one of them, I had the advantage as he entered and could overpower him."

"Do you know who it was? His contact?" asked Jack. He wasn't keen on involving anyone else, particularly anyone inside the government if it was possible the government were involved, but he was in London without the rest of his team and needed to think about Ianto, not to mention the other survivors.

"I don't know," Ianto murmured. "Check his mobile. They sent him a text just before the first shot."

Jack moved toward the body, where both Ewan's phone and Ianto's phone were lying on the floor covered in blood. He leaned down to pick it up, glancing over his shoulder before he did.

"So do you think we've an agent watching us right now?" he asked, not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"As a matter of fact, you do," said a voice from near the door; he hadn't even heard it open. A short dark woman with springy hair stood there, gun pointed straight at him and grim look on her face. "And she's not a very happy agent, Captain Harkness."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I wish this wasn't so short, but it was a good place to stop. I'm catching up to myself so updates might take a few days now. But you should meet the MI5 agent this weekend. Thanks for reading, I appreciate the encouragement!


	8. Chapter Eight

"How do you know my name?" Jack demanded. Ianto rolled his eyes; surely the entire government was aware of the name Jack Harkness, given his unique proclivity for pissing them off. Of course MI5 would have specs on him, probably all of Torchwood Three as well. The agent before them seemed just as amused as Ianto.

"Not the question you should be asking, Captain," she murmured. She was dressed in a casual business suit with flats; she was certainly tall enough without heels. Her makeup was subtle and the com piece in her ear unobtrusive. Really, the only thing that gave away secret agent was the gun and the look on her sharp-eyed face: she was scanning the room intently before she bent down and held two fingers to Ewan's throat, letting out a quiet sigh when she obviously found no pulse. "What happened? I warned him to get out."

"It was too late," Ianto said wearily from the bed. "Three shots through the window as soon as he looked up."

She stood and regarded him, green eyes piercing his. "You must be Ianto Jones. He wouldn't let me up to see you—said he needed to talk to you because he knew you."

Ianto nodded, though it took some effort. "Yes, I knew him. We were at Canary Wharf together. Which is why he came to see me…why he died."

The woman's face abruptly softened. "I know," she said quietly. "I was trying to help him figure it out. He was a good man. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath before turning back to Jack. "But your friend is right. We need to clean this up, and I suggest we move you to safety as well. I can get what you need quick."

Jack was standing with his hands crossed in front of him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do we know we can trust you?" he asked point blank. "We've already been shot at twice."

"You'd be dead by now if I wanted to kill you," she shrugged, taking out a PDA and beginning to tap directions into it. In the back of his muddled mind, Ianto hoped it was secure. "Now, I've got a containment team on their way. What else do you need?" She ignored Jack and instead turned to Ianto, waiting impatiently. Whether she sensed he was the man to ask for such things or did so because he was injured, he wasn't quite sure.

"Personally, I need clean clothes, some large bandages, strong painkillers, and maybe another drink." He grinned ruefully. "As for the other problem, I'm not sure. I've never cleaned up a dead body from my own hotel room. I usually cover up more…exotic things in Cardiff."

The woman blanched a bit at that, then nodded as she continued to tap with her stylus. "We'll take care of it, then. Tell me what you think." Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack; it wasn't every day a trained MI5 agent asked his opinion. He felt rather out of his league, if part because his shoulder was a throbbing bundle of fire and pain still bleeding out onto the towel.

"I've just sent for clothing and supplies. I've also asked for an ambulance, one of ours. We'll take you and Mr. MacDaniel out in the ambulance. Hopefully they'll think you're dead and stop trying to kill you. We'll set up a cover story that Ewan came up to kill you—"

"No," said Ianto sharply. "He was a hero. He survived Canary Wharf and saved my life more than once there. He came here to warn me. I won't have him blamed for my death." Jack was watching him, nodding slightly to himself. Ianto was glad Jack agreed, because he would not do that to Ewan MacDaniel; the man deserved better. "Besides, whomever is trying to kill us will know it's a cover up. Ewan wasn't working for them."

"Do you want to be the one who shot him then? In self defense?" the woman asked pointedly. "I could walk you out in cuffs if you prefer. Might hurt your shoulder, though." Before Ianto could answer the ridiculous question, Jack stepped up, once again growing defensive.

"Excuse, what did you say your name was?" he asked. Ianto could hear the impatient hint of anger at the edge of Jack's voice.

"Jordan Ford," she replied, finally pulling out a badge. "I'm senior liason to the Home Office. I was working with Ewan MacDaniel at the request of John Frobisher to try to track down whomever has been killing the remaining survivors of Canary Wharf." She paused and gave him a slight smirk. "I'm surprised it took you so long to ask, Captain. I assure you, you can trust me."

"I'm sorry, Jordan Ford, but someone's tried to kill him twice today," Jack replied stonily. "I don't trust anyone at this point."

She merely raised an eyebrow. "Your choice. But I can help you, Captain. Let me help you." The professional mask slipped just a little. "For Ewan. He didn't deserve this. And neither do any of the others."

"Jack," said Ianto softly. "Let her help. We're on our own otherwise. I'll work with her on the cover story." He'd already been thinking about it, given it was his job. "The problem is that we're dealing with trained snipers with advanced equipment. If they've been ordered to confirm the kill this time, they'll know I'm not dead when you roll me out on a stretcher. And they'll just try again if you take me out in cuffs."

Jordan frowned. "How would they know? We've done it before."

"Heat-sensing equipment, that sort of thing. We use it at Torchwood. If they've got anyone nearby monitoring, they'll know."

"Ianto's right," Jack said, nodding in agreement. "If we want them to think Ianto's dead, which would really help us figure this out quicker, then we need to sneak two dead bodies out of here."

"I don't have dead bodies on call," Ford snapped. "Even in MI5."

"Funny, we never have a problem with it," Ianto murmured with a slight smile to himself at the ridiculousness of the statement. Everyone was quiet for a moment after that.

"Shoot me," said Jack suddenly into the silence. Ianto stared at him.

"Jack, no—"

"From what I've heard, I'm sure I'd enjoy it," Jordan interrupted. "But I don't make it a habit to shoot innocent civilians as part of cover ups."

"Oh, I'm not a civilian and I'm really not that innocent," Jack said with a smirk.

"You said they could pick up the heat signature on a living body. How does that work then, if we wheel you out with a gunshot wound?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's no different than wheeling Jones out."

Jack leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "I'll be dead," he whispered. Ianto stood and pulled on Jack's arm, turning him around.

"No, Jack. It won't work, and you just died a few hours ago anyway. Who knows what it will do to you, it could—"

"I'll be fine," Jack said, reassuring in an almost frightening way.

"I won't," snapped Ianto. "I'm not watching you die again."

"Excuse me, did you say _again_?" Jordan Ford interrupted them. When Jack just nodded, Ianto gave her a sympathetic shrug.

"It's just this thing he does, which he is _not_ doing today."

"If it will get them off your trail for a few hours, then I'll do it," said Jack, his voice taking on that stubborn tone he did so well. "You can put on my clothes, I'll put on yours. They'll see me leave with two bodies and call it case closed. Just cry a bit to make it more believable."

"Unless they want you dead too," snapped Ianto. "In which case I'm a walking target in that stupid coat of yours!"

"You're a target anyway, Ianto!" Jack exclaimed. "At least we can try to take you off the grid." He paused. "Even if you don't like my coat anymore."

Ianto ignored the attempt at flippancy. "No."

"It might work," said Ford, sounding slightly hesitant. "If you are what you say you are." She narrowed her eyes at Jack. "Which given some of the records we have on you, may just be possible. But first we need to move out of here, get to a more secure location in the hotel. I'm going to go downstairs, explain we've got a situation, and get another room. I'll be back in ten, and hopefully my team won't be long after."

She swept out before Jack or Ianto could say a word. Ianto closed his eyes and sighed, then took a deep breath to calm himself. He could do this. He'd been through worse. Just because Jack had died, Ianto had been shot, was still on the target list, and had a dead body in his hotel room did not mean he had to panic. How many Weevils had he disposed of? Hoix? Vandorians? Other alien creatures he'd never thought to encounter while at Torchwood?

And that's when it hit him: this was about Torchwood—Torchwood One. This was about _people,_ not aliens. This was about friends and coworkers and some madman trying to kill them all for no reason whatsoever other than that they had survived a catastrophic alien invasion, even if the world had been told otherwise.

It was like the trip to the Brecon Beacons, when one of the most horrifying enemies they'd ever faced had turned out to be human, not something the Rift spit out in the middle of nowhere. Once again he was fighting the cruelty of humanity, as well as the damning arrogance of Torchwood One. With a gasp, Ianto turned around and swore vehemently as he leaned over the wet bar, breathing fast.

Jack was there immediately, touching his arm, but Ianto threw it off, not wanting comforting touch at that moment. Frankly, he just wanted to wallow in the panic, give in to the pain in his shoulder that was getting worse and worse. Jack was murmuring something, but Ianto couldn't hear him, it was just a buzzing in his ears. His vision was blurry, he felt suddenly lightheaded and put his forehead to the bar, only to have Jack catch him under the arms as he fell, which practically ripped apart his shoulder, and he then he blissfully passed out.

* * *

When Ianto came to, Jack was hovering over him with the most frightened look on his face that Ianto had ever seen. Jack's hand brushed against Ianto's forehead, damp with cool, clammy sweat, and his smile as Ianto opened his eyes was forced in that way only Ianto recognized. And so Ianto tried to smile back, to reassure Jack and erase the fear and worry from his face.

"Just a minor flesh wound," he murmured, and Jack half laughed, half cried, it seemed.

"It was a good shot," said a voice next to Ianto, and a silver-haired man in an impeccable navy suit was standing at his side, just finishing bandaging his shoulder. Which meant he wasn't on the floor, he was on the bed, and he hadn't even noticed. "Good in the sense that it hit you hard enough to take you down and hurt like hell, but not hard enough to kill you." He helped Ianto sit up so he could get around his shoulder with a bandage. "Dr. Nigel Williamson, MI5. And you're one lucky man, Mr. Jones, judging by the other guy."

Ianto grimaced, but with his shoulder bandaged it already felt better. Dr. Williamson pulled out a large needle, and Ianto glanced away; oh, he'd been stuck plenty of times as a Torchwood operative, but that didn't mean he liked it. The doctor chuckled.

"Just a good strong painkiller, and I'll leave some pills for you as well. Jordan tells me you three aren't quite finished with whatever's going on here yet."

"Far from it," Ianto murmured, feeling the drug flow into his arm and almost instantly relax the pain and tension. "But thank you. I appreciate your help. And your suit."

"Just doing my job," said the doctor with an amused smile, helping Ianto swing his legs over the side of the bed while Jack sat down next to him. "I also brought a sling and some clothing for you."

Ianto frowned. "How long was I out?" he asked Jack.

Jack pulled him close and kissed his temple "Too long," he murmured. "But only about twenty minutes."

"Where's Fiona?" he asked, suddenly worried for the woman who had started this all. He glanced around and saw her lying on the sofa, breathing softly.

"I gave her a sedative," the doctor said softly. "She's fine, just panicked a bit when you collapsed. We'll take care of her."

"MI5 is good," Ianto said, and he heard the slightly tipsy lilt to his voice; he knew it was the drugs, but since they were working, he decided he didn't care what he sounded like.

"That we are, Mr. Jones," said Jordan Ford, stepping into the room. For the first time Ianto noticed they were not in his hotel room, as there was no body on the floor, no pool of congealing blood, no hole in the window; apparently he had been moved quite a bit while he had been unconscious. "So good we've got a plan now."

"Which included moving me while I was unconscious."

"That was the easy part," joked Jack.

"Speak for yourself," said Jordan, but she was smiling. "Yes, we're just down the hall now. I've got some people back in your room doing cleanup. I've informed the hotel that we've had a national security situation."

"And I called Tosh and asked her to clean up any sign that we were here and involved in it," Jack added, and Jordan nodded approvingly.

"Anything to keep them from tracking you again, although I doubt we'll be able to avoid them if, like you said, they're watching for confirmation of the kill."

"Which is why we're going with my plan," finished Jack.

Ianto shook his head. "No. I won't let you."

"You can't stop me," Jack pointed out lightly.

Ianto stood on shaky legs. "Just you watch me, Jack Harkness—" But he felt dizzy and weak, and Dr. Williamson gently set him back down on the bed.

"I don't particularly like their plan either," he said softly to Ianto. "But your friend here assures me he will be all right. If we are to convince these people that you're dead, it's the best we've got without raiding the morgue."

Ianto stared hard at Jack, thinking _Then raid the damn morgue! _But he kept his thoughts to himself, eyes locked on Jack as he frantically tried to come up with another plan. Jack watched him with equally stubborn eyes, as if challenging him.

"Why do we need to let them think I'm dead?" Ianto finally asked, a vague thought coming to him through the fog clouding his brain. He tried to focus.

"So they stop trying to kill you," said Jordan, eyeing him uncertainly. "I thought that was obvious."

"It is," Ianto nodded. "But how is that going to help us find them if they think I'm dead?"

"It'll let us work without looking over our shoulder all the time," said Jack, frowning. "But you've got another idea, don't you?"

Ianto glanced around the room, gathering his thoughts. Oh yes, he had another idea. An idea that didn't involve shooting Jack in the head. A plan to figure out just who was after him and why. A way to get close enough to stop them. He grinned, knowing he probably looked a bit mad from the way the other three exchanged worried glances, but again, he didn't particularly care.

It was a plan. It could even work.

* * *

Author's Note

I really did want to shoot Jack, but decided it just wouldn't work as well as Ianto's plan. Which could be a bit mad, we'll see. I also wasn't planning on Ianto passing out, but realized that a gunshot wound to the shoulder like that would probably be a Very Bad Thing and needed to be addressed. Unfortunately, he may lose the arm by the end of the story.

Kidding.

Sometimes the author's notes are my favorite part, did you guess?

Anyway, I've caught up to myself now, which means a bit more time between updates. Plus I have to figure out who the killer is and why they are doing this.

Kidding again.

I know who it is and exactly how it goes down, although I'm sure there will be an unexpected twist or two long the way if my story writing follows its usual way of working itself out.

Anyway - thank you for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!


	9. Chapter Nine

Jack didn't like it.

In fact, he hated it, for any number of reasons. It was UNIT, and he didn't like them. It was Ianto, and Jack didn't want to risk him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ianto, or believe in his ability, but he couldn't stand the thought of it not working, of Ianto being found out and hurt, even killed. He was already in a compromised position with his wound and Ewan's death.

No, Jack didn't like it at all; he'd rather be shot.

But Jordan Ford seemed to think it might actually work. Dr. Williamson, who certainly didn't support the idea of killing Jack in order to sneak them out, no matter how much Jack assured the doctor he would recover, agreed that it was an idea worth pursuing, although he cautioned against it at the moment due to Ianto's injury, and Jack appreciated the man for that.

"You've given me drugs, antibiotics," said Ianto. "I'll make sure I drink, eat, keep my strength up. And when this is over, I'll take a week off. Promise."

Jack gave him a skeptical look. "Says who?"

"Says your overworked general support who just had a bullet go through his shoulder," Ianto replied. Jack was glad to see the color returning to Ianto's face, his biting responses returning with it, but that didn't mean he would agree to the plan.

"You wouldn't last three days on vacation," Jack said, sidestepping the issue.

"Jack," Ianto said warningly.

"Give it up, Harkness," said a voice on the speakerphone. "You're not going to win this one against the teaboy."

"Since when do you take Ianto's side?" Jack asked, and Owen barked a laugh in response.

"Since it sounds like the best plan for not only getting out of London alive, but finding these bastards and putting them down once and for all."

"He's been shot!" Jack exclaimed. He saw Jordan Ford roll her eyes, since it was probably the twelfth time he'd pointed it out. He could imagine Owen shrugging in response.

"He's still here," said Ianto. He had pulled on the casual clothing Williamson had brought for him and put his arm in the sling. "And he is doing much better now, thank you."

"He sounds good to me, Jack," said Owen over the line. "And we certainly know he can pull the wool over people's eyes, so I say let him go for it. Just get him back up and be ready to pull him out if it all goes to shit."

Ianto's face blanched. "I'm not sure whether to thank you for that endorsement, Owen, but I appreciate the support."

"It's your life on the line, not mine," said Owen. "You still owe me coffee so don't muck it up."

"Ianto," said Gwen. "It's a good plan, but you're hurt, sweetheart." Cue Ianto's eyeroll, which Gwen couldn't see so she continued. "And you've got none of the Hub's resources to help. I'm with Jack, it's just not the best timing."

"Tosh," said Ianto. "What would we need? As backup?" Tosh listed a few things, most of which caused Ford and Williamson to exchange curious glances as they likely had little idea what Tosh was talking about. "Great. How soon could you be here with it?"

"What?" said Owen and Gwen at the same time. Jack frowned; he sensed he was abruptly losing the battle.

"I'd just need to pull it all together and get on the road. Four hours tops," she said. "I can be there by midnight."

"You're not bloody driving to London on your own in the middle of the night," said Owen, and Jack exchanged a small smile with Ianto at Owen's sudden protectiveness.

"Owen, we can't leave the…city unattended, not with the recent increases in…activity." Jack didn't particularly want to let on to MI5 that there was a rift in space and time that dumped aliens in Cardiff. The higher-ups might know, but Jordan Ford and Nigel Williamson certainly did not need to learn anymore than they already had about Torchwood. "Tosh is best with the tech, so if she drives out here, you and Gwen can keep an eye on things back there." He heard Owen swore and was pretty sure Gwen sighed. "Sorry. Job's a job."

"Great," muttered Owen. "So Tosh and Ianto get to play super spy while we get to sit around waiting for the next half sentient, drooling piece of-"

"Owen," Jack cut him off. "You can have the next spy case, okay?"

There was a long pause. "Been there, done that, give it to Gwen. All right, we'll stay. We'll get Tosh set up with whatever she needs to bring down and send her on her way. Jones, you still conscious?"

"Your voice does not allow for easy relaxation," Ianto replied dryly. Ford smirked, and Jack winked at her. This was his team, the way they interacted and showed they cared. God, was he glad he had come back.

"Right. My voice is telling you not to push it. I remember being shot in the shoulder not too long ago and it wasn't so easy getting on with things, especially if it involved any sort of trouble."

Ianto's face took on a more serious look, and he sighed. "Understood. I'll try not to get into any trouble, then."

"I'll keep a close eye on him in the meantime, Dr. Harper," Nigel Williamson spoke up. "I've patched him up rather well if I do say so myself, and he does seem fairly plucky."

Ianto gave the doctor one of his _Did you just say that?_ looks. The others back at the Hub laughed.

"That's our teaboy all right, plucky and stubborn as hell. Thank you, Dr. Williamson."

"Ianto, do you need anything else?" asked Tosh, and Ianto nodded.

"Can you bring some spare clothes from my locker? There should be a suit, shirt, shoes, and tie. I'd like to keep up appearances."

Ianto gave an unapologetic shrug when Jack rolled his eyes, then grinned as he wrapped it up. "All right. I don't like this, but I'll feel better with Tosh here and Ianto back in a suit. We'll let you know where we end up so we can meet you there."

"I hope it's as nice as the Four Seasons," Tosh said. "I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Tosh," Ianto called before the call went out. He turned back and gave Jack a pointed look. "You gave in quickly."

"I still don't like it," Jack grumbled. "But I think I'm outnumbered, and I've got nothing better to offer. If Tosh is here, I'll feel better about her keeping an eye on you."

"Because I can't take care of myself?" Ianto asked, his voice light but his eyes hard. Jack crossed his arms over his chest; Ianto raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer.

"Because you're proposing to walk into the viper's nest, alone and injured. I know you can take care of yourself, but I wouldn't want to let any of you do that, let alone someone who is so close to the case."

Ianto nodded, which was not the response Jack expected. "That's why I have to do it, Jack. Because I'm close. Because I'm injured. Because I'm alone. That's what will get me in."

"I have to agree," Jordan Ford finally spoke up. "If he plays it right, he'll get in. And we'll all have multiple eyes on him."

Jack sighed. "Okay, tell me again what you're planning on saying."

"I'll act innocent and ignorant of what I really know. I'm calling to warn him, to get his help." Ianto was pacing, nervous energy crackling around him. "I might ask to transfer, for protection. I'll sympathize with the victims' terrible lives, drop the offhand remark that maybe they're better off, and if he gives anything up about the murders, I'll offer to help." He grinned. "Possibly not the best plan I've come up with when I say it out loud, but that's the general point."

Jack stared hard at him. "It's bollocks."

"It's what we have." Another showdown as blue eyes flashed at one another across the room.

"Excuse me," interrupted Dr. Williamson. "I think the psychology of the plan is sound in terms of Mr. Jones here playing the bitter victim. If this man, Michael Ian Scott, is the one we are looking for, you should be able to pinpoint that relatively quickly and will just need to adapt your approach as needed. If he's not the man, he could be valuable help in the investigation."

"Ewan seemed to think he was the most likely suspect," said Ianto. "He went to UNIT, but left research. He's an officer now, so he's got the resources for something like this. Katherine Young in still in research and recovery. The other two survivors in UNIT are unlikely." Jack remembered that Ianto had referred to one of them as a glorified secretary; when he had pointed out just how much Ianto had accomplished when he'd started Torchwood Three, the man had shrugged, pointing out he was more of a butler than a secretary.

"All right, we try it your way. Make the call, see if you can meet with him in the morning once Tosh has got you set up." Ianto nodded as Jack turned to Jordan Ford. "What's our plan then?"

"I think that Ianto has a better chance of getting in if they think you've gone back to Cardiff," she said. "So take the car and head back to Cardiff. After an hour or so, double back and meet us here." She handed him an address, he memorized it, then she took it back. "Ianto stays here-"

"Not alone!" Jack said, and Ianto groaned.

"Christ, Jack, I'm not a child," he snapped.

"You're a target," Jack threw back. "With a bad arm and a half-assed plan. You don't know that the moment they hear from you, they'll come after you again."

"I don't know that," Ianto admitted calmly, throwing Jack for a loop again. "But I have to risk it."

"I don't like it," Jack said.

"You don't have to," Ianto replied. God, this was hard. How in the world was he supposed to balance his relationship with Ianto with the demands of their job? He felt like they had just settled into something comfortable after a difficult time, and he really didn't want to lose it. He wanted Ianto safe, protected…even though he knew it was unfair to the man, who had proved himself time and time again to be more than capable of taking care of himself, as well as the rest of the team. Jack hated risking anyone, but right now, more than anything, he did not want to risk Ianto.

"We've got both rooms on either side of his booked," said Jordan, drawing their attention to her in an effort to break the tension crackling in the room. "And Dr. Williamson-"

"Will be here the entire time. Must keep an eye on my patient, after all." He smiled, and Ianto smiled back; Jack did not.

"After the call, then what?" asked Jack.

"We move Ianto, because like you said, they could come after him as soon as they hear from him. Dr. Williamson can sneak him out in his car. I'll have my people shut down the CCTV in the area so they don't pick up anything if they're looking. He'll meet you at the safe house, and when your person shows up, we can get him ready for tomorrow."

"If there is a tomorrow," Jack murmured.

"I'll get in," Ianto assured him. "I got into Torchwood Three, didn't I?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did you happen to bring an extra dinosaur with you?'

Ianto smiled. "Not this time. I'm just going to play his sympathies a bit."

There was silence as they all thought about the game they were about to play and what was at stake. Finally Jack sighed in defeat. "Can we have a moment alone?" Ford and Williamson nodded and stepped into the hallway. Jack reached for Ianto's hand and pulled him closer. At first Ianto resisted, but quickly enough he let himself step forward into Jack's arms.

"Just be careful," Jack whispered. "So many things could go wrong. We don't even know if it's him, but if it is, we could be setting you up in the worst way possible."

"Jack, it'll be fine," Ianto was trying to reassure him, but Jack wasn't having it. He was too worried. If he admitted it, a big part of that was because he wasn't directly involved. He was sending in Ianto on his own, while he drove off and hid and watched. Jack hated sitting back and watching; he wanted to take action. He needed to be the one taking action, especially when it was as crazy as this plan.

Ianto seemed to sense this and kissed him softly on the lips. "I know you want to be a part of this, but I can do it. I just need you and Tosh to watch my back, okay?"

"Okay," Jack said reluctantly. "I can do that. Like a hawk."

"Like a hawk. Thank you, Jack." Jack gave him a questioning look. "For trusting me to do this. I won't let you down."

Jack almost choked on his words as he enveloped Ianto in his arms once more. "Oh god, Ianto. I know that. It's not you I don't trust, it's them. I hate putting you in danger."

He hadn't realized how tightly he was holding Ianto until the man mumbled into his shoulder. "Mind the shoulder, Jack. It still hurts." Jack released him with a nervous laugh, running his thumb along Ianto's jaw.

"You come back in one piece, all right? Or you'll have to answer to me."

There was a knock on the door, and Jack went to look out the eyehole to make sure it was Ford and Williamson. They nodded when he asked if everything was all right, and he opened the door quickly to let them in.

"You should make the call," Jordan said. "Before it's too late. Here's the number." She handed Ianto a slip of paper, which he stared at as if it had just hit him that he was really about to follow through with his own plan. Jack jumped at the opportunity.

"You don't have to do this," he started, but Ianto held up a hand and stopped him.

"I do and I will. Go. I need to be able to tell him that you've gone back to Cardiff. I need to be independent."

Jordan placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Good luck, Jones. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you for your help," Ianto replied. She smiled and nodded, then turned to leave. Jack strode up to Ianto, took his face in his hands, and kissed him as long and as hard as he could. He felt Ianto stiffen at first, then felt the moment when his breath caught and he gave into it. And he suspected he could have convinced Ianto of a lot more if there weren't others around. They would definitely have to celebrate Ianto's birthday properly when this was all over.

Finally Jack stepped back with a grin, leaving Ianto slightly breathless. Dr. Williamson had merely raised an eyebrow, but Jordan Ford looked positively gobsmacked. Which meant, as a trained MI5 agent, she had missed picking up on something quite important to the case, and that almost made Jack chuckle.

"See you soon," he whispered, then turned to leave with Ford. She was eyeing him speculatively, and he wondered what she was going to ask him once they left. Maybe nothing, but Jack wouldn't mind having a bit of fun with it if she did.

"You be careful too," Ianto called. "I don't want to have to wait around for you revive again if something goes wrong."

"You won't," said Jack, turning and smiling at him. "I promise."

He turned and left Ianto on his own to start his plan for infiltrating UNIT and finding the killer before it was too late. He just hoped he wouldn't regret walking out the door.

* * *

Author's Note

Hm, I've got nothing this time. Hopefully that was vague yet specific enough that you have some idea of what Ianto is going to do. I really appreciate responses though. It keeps me going, so please let me know what you're thinking!


	10. Chapter Ten

Ianto watched Jack leave, then closed his eyes and sighed. It had been hard, putting on the mask of confidence he'd needed in order to convince Jack to agree to the plan. Ianto could admit to himself that in many ways, Jack was right: the plan was potentially dangerous at best, life-threatening insane at worst. Ianto was tired and in pain and yes, emotionally compromised by his connection to Canary Wharf and Ewan MacDaniel. And yet he knew, deep down, that these things could help him, that he could put aside his own fear and get the job done.

He had to, or he'd be a marked man until he died.

"Your Captain Harkness is a very unusual man," Dr. Williamson offered from behind him, where he was sitting in a chair, hands folded placidly on his lap.

"He's a good man," Ianto murmured. "Just used to being the center of attention and in charge, that's all."

Williamson chuckled. "I could certainly see that. He's also quite concerned about you, though." The doctor was eyeing him curiously, and Ianto had to look away.

"He's always concerned about his team members in dangerous situations," Ianto answered, and hoped the doctor accepted it. He didn't.

"But you're more than a team member to him, Ianto," said Dr. Williamson softly.

As Ianto wasn't quite sure how true that was, he merely shrugged and denied it. "No more than the others. I take care of the team. That's my job. It's a bit odd being the one in trouble this time."

"Hmm." The doctor nodded sagely. "I suspect you take care of him more than the others, though, and I imagine he probably needs it with all that bravado and swagger hiding whatever's underneath. Just remember it works both ways: he has every right to be worried about you, and someday you might need to let him take care of you."

"Because I won't get out of this?" Ianto asked, a bit too sharply, but Williamson only chuckled.

"Not at all. I think you'll do fine, though I worry about your injury. I'm just pointing out what I see."

"I'm not sure it's any of your business," Ianto replied stiffly.

"My patient's health is my business." The doctor stood and retrieved Ianto's mobile from the table. "Now, I believe you have a phone call to make. Are you ready?"

"Not really," Ianto murmured. "But I'll do my best." He took several deep breaths before walking toward the bedroom for semi-privacy, trying to put the doctor's strange comments aside for the moment; he'd puzzle them out later if he needed to.

Recalling the number Jordan Ford had given him—a direct private line to Commander Michael Ian Collins—Ianto framed his words in his mind and took one more breath before he sat down, crossed his legs, and tried to appear more calm than he actually felt as he pressed the numbers with shaking hands.

The line rang twice. "This is Commander Collins," said a terse voice on the other end. Ianto began his charade.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but my name is Ianto Jones. I'm with Torchwood Three, in Cardiff." He rattled off his identification number and a priority code he knew would convince the commander that he was, indeed, who he said he was and that he had an exceptional reason for calling.

There was a pause, which may or may not have been for any number of reasons—surprise, or simply confirming his identity. "Ianto Jones. You're Harkness's general support, right?"

"Yes, sir. I've spoken with General Brightman on several occasions."

"Then perhaps you should be speaking to him now," said the commander, and Ianto sensed impatience in the man's voice.

"No sir, I need to speak with you. Personally."

Another pause. "How did you get this number?" asked Collins, and Ianto smiled to himself, his answer ready.

"We're Torchwood, sir. We have our ways of finding out just about anything."

"I'm sure you do," murmured the other man. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but this is not a good time."

"Commander Collins, I'm afraid this is the only time," Ianto insisted. He lowered his voice as if trying to keep a secret. "Someone is trying to kill me."

"What?" It was a quick reaction, Ianto had to give him that. He proceeded carefully.

"I have reason to believe it's part of a larger conspiracy, Commander. You could be in danger."

There was a bark of harsh laughter on the other end of the line. "I assure you, Mr. Jones, I am well protected here at UNIT from any sort of so-called conspiracy."

"Yes sir," Ianto hurried to say deferentially. He tried to sound hesitant as he continued. "It's just that I believe the survivors of Canary Wharf are being targeted, and while we didn't know one another at Torchwood One, we are both survivors. You could be a target as well."

"A conspiracy targeting Canary Wharf?" asked Collins. "What makes you think that?"

And now Ianto tried to make himself sound smaller, scared, which wasn't all that hard. "Sir, someone tried to kill me earlier today. I have reason to believe from something he said that it has to do with Canary Wharf. After doing some research, I noticed a pattern regarding the other survivors and several unexpected deaths. And then I was shot in the shoulder this afternoon. You could be next."

"So could you, since you seem to be good at surviving," Collins pointed out. He did not sound surprised or dismayed that Ianto had been shot, but apparently the man recognized this because he backtracked almost immediately. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sir. I could use your help, though."

"I'm not sure how I can help you, Mr. Jones. This hardly sounds like a job for UNIT." It was exactly the brush off Ianto would have expected, and he nodded to himself.

"Captain Harkness has gone back to Cardiff for a Rift emergency," Ianto lied easily. If they were watching the hotel, they would have seen Jack leave. If they tracked him through London CCTV, they would know Ianto was telling the truth. "He's asked me to look into it, but I'm not sure who else to turn to. There are several more survivors who are at risk, sir. We owe it to them to protect them."

Collins chuckled, and Ianto hated the sound of it, because it was so dismissive. "We protect the planet from aliens and extraterrestrial threats, Mr. Jones. Not common thugs and murderers."

"Sir, with all due respect, Torchwood was all about extraterrestrial threats. Canary Wharf was nothing but aliens. I'm certain they are connected."

"Why?" asked Collins, perhaps a bit too quickly, Ianto wasn't sure.

"Because the first man who tried to kill me said he was cleaning up after Canary Wharf. There must be a reason these people don't want us alive. We must be some sort of threat to them. And as a former lead scientist and an officer in UNIT, I should think that would be of concern to you." Ianto had allowed his voice to go somewhat hard and accusatory by the end, and was rewarded when Collins sighed.

"No, it is. If what you say is true. We need to find out more before we go blundering around. What do you want from me?"

"Can we meet, sir? Tomorrow morning?" Ianto was prepared for the man to deny his request and almost held his breath.

"Mr. Jones, if you've been attacked twice today, perhaps we should meet tonight." This surprised Ianto, and his first thought was that Collins wanted to finish him off before he could stir up any more trouble. Or the commander might honestly be concerned about Ianto's safety…but Ianto did not sense that from the tone of the man's voice. He sounded more exasperated than anything.

"I've got plans to go underground for the night, sir. I want to shake anyone who might be following me. I'd rather they didn't know I was heading out to see you. Two targets together might be irresistible." It had already proven deadly for Ewan.

"What about your injury? Do you need medical attention?" Collins had lowered his voice; maybe he didn't want anyone to hear, or maybe he was actually concerned. Or perhaps he wanted to gauge whether Ianto was seriously injured enough to die on his own without a third assassination attempt. Ianto filed it away to ponder later.

"I'm fine, sir. It was not a direct shot." He put just the right amount of hesitation into the rest of his answer, allowing his voice to hitch as he thought about Ewan. "I was speaking with another survivor, and the bullet actually killed him before grazing me."

"I see." There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Then perhaps you're right about this conspiracy. Who was he?"

"Ewan MacDaniel, sir," said Ianto. "He was a good man. We fought our way out together."

"I'm sorry to hear about his death, then," said Collins softly. "We'll meet at 0800 tomorrow morning, UNIT headquarters. I'll make sure you have a badge. Will you be able to get here safely?"

Ianto let a bit of confidence creep back into his voice. "Yes, sir. I've been shot at twice today and survived. Now that I have some idea of what's going on, I can do a better job of staying out of sight. I know how to disappear and hide."

"Right. That's Torchwood for you." A long pause. "Be careful, Mr. Jones. This sounds serious. I'll look into it and see you in the morning."

"Thank you for your help sir," said Ianto. He could imagine the other man nodding before he signed off. Blowing out a long breath, Ianto set down his phone and let his head fall into his hand.

It had been almost too easy. He was in.

Eventually Ianto stood and returned to the outer room, where Dr. Williamson was flicking through the pages of a golf magazine. He glanced up and gave Ianto a questioning eyebrow. Ianto liked the doctor. He was steady and calm, obviously knew what he was doing as a doctor, and had a hell of a lot better bedside manner than Owen ever had. Ianto wondered if the man had children and grandchildren, because he seemed like the sort who would dote on them while at the same time remaining strict and structured. It struck Ianto that he could have used a father like that. Which was a strange thing to be thinking at such a time, but then, he had been shot, and right then Nigel Williamson was the only one there to help him.

"How did it go then?" the doctor asked, standing with a smile.

Ianto nodded slowly, not quite sure whether it was appropriate to feel proud of his success when he'd only set himself up for more danger. "0800 at UNIT headquarters," he replied.

"Oh, very good, Mr. Jones!" Williamson exclaimed, almost clapping his hands together. "Are you sure you don't want to join MI5 and get out of the alien business?"

"I'm sorry, the what?" Ianto replied stupidly.

"Oh come now, Ianto, we all know what Torchwood is really about," Williamson waved a hand in the hair and grinned. "Although I suspect Jordan would rather not. Either way, you'd make a good agent."

"Hardly," muttered Ianto. "I got shot at. Twice."

Dr. Williamson frowned as he placed a hand on Ianto's good shoulder. "You survived. Twice. And yet you're going right back in. I'd call that commendable on any CV."

"Likely won't make my CV, sir," Ianto replied with a rare chuckle. "Torchwood is really an all or nothing sort of job."

"Call me Nigel," said the older man. "And I understand, believe me. Sometimes secrecy is in our blood when it comes to what we choose do with our lives. Now, if you're ready, we should get going. I've got your laptop packed and ready and taken the liberty of tidying up everything else, since we hardly used the place."

Ianto glanced around and smiled; Nigel Williamson was a man much like him in that regard. "What about my phone?" he asked "Won't they try and track me now that I've called Collins' private line?"

"Leave it here," Williamson instructed. "We've transferred everything important to a new phone." He took the mobile from Ianto and with a few swift keystrokes that Ianto recognized too well from his own clean up work, wiped the memory clean before tossing it on the bedside table. He handed Ianto a new phone. "This one has some of our best programs at blocking a trace. Could be useful in your line of work."

"I'm sure it will be," said Ianto, examining the sleek, updated device. "Thank you."

"All right, let me call my contact and get them to disrupt the CCTV in the area, then we can leave. Here's a hat just in case." He handed Ianto a rather large black fedora; Ianto stared at it.

"Really? MI5's best disguise is a hat?"

"Just a precaution. You're not usually seen in hats, are you?" When Ianto shook his head, Williamson took out his own hat and perched it on his head, looking for all the world a bit like an elder statesmen from the turn of the century. "Plus, it's stylish. You should take the sling off for a bit, bit obvious that you've been injured. Are the painkillers still working?"

Ianto took the sling off as Williamson made a quick phone call. He tried to flex his shoulder, but it was very stiff and sore. It was not unbearable, though, so he nodded. He'd certainly need more soon medication soon, though.

"All right. Five minutes and we're good to go. Ready to leave this place?"

Ianto glanced around. "Not really. It's a nice hotel."

Nigel grinned. "Oh, it's an exceptionally nice hotel. Great restaurant, good spa, adorable concierge who speaks six different languages. Lovely place, except when you've been shot in your own room. You'll probably want to find something different next time you're in London."

"I'm sure Jack can come up with something," Ianto murmured, too late realizing what he had said. Williamson winked at him.

"I knew it," he said. "You two make a…well, a good team." He glanced at his watch. "All right, let's head down to the garage. There's a car waiting for us there."

"Not the same car you drove in with, I hope?" asked Ianto quietly as they left the room. Nigel carried his laptop bag while Ianto simply tried not to jar his shoulder too much. As they stepped into the elevator, the doctor gave him an approving look.

"You are good, Mr. Jones. No, not the same car. If anyone's snooping about, I checked in for the night. So we'll leave a bit differently."

"And how will you check out tomorrow?" asked Ianto. The elevator was quick, and he felt a bit nauseous with so many drugs in his system.

"Oh, whoever's minding the room tonight just has to leave the keys in the morning, you know that. Hotels make it so easy for us secret agents these days."

They stepped out into the dark parking garage, and Ianto felt himself tense. What if there were more suits out there, just waiting to ambush him and the doctor? Head down and heart racing, Ianto placed his good hand on the gun in his pocket and followed Dr. Williamson a short distance to a nondescript sedan. The older man typed in an access code on the door and climbed in the driver's side door while Ianto sat in the passenger seat, placing the gun in his lap.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't need that," said Williamson, starting the car with keys Ianto had no idea how he'd got. "We're almost in the clear."

"And where next?"

"Safe house," said Williamson. "We've got them scattered across the city. I think Jordan's picked one not too far from UNIT headquarters. Less cloak and dagger to get you there safely in the morning that way."

"Convenient," Ianto murmured. "How do you keep them safe exactly?"

"Oh, that's a trade secret, Mr. Jones," Williamson laughed. He did not seem nervous at all as he pulled out onto the London streets and began to maneuver his way around. "Join us and we'll let you in on it."

"No thanks," said Ianto, unable to hold back a yawn. "I prefer Cardiff. Too many bad memories in London." He stared out the window as the memories of his short years there flooded his mind.

"I could imagine," the doctor murmured sympathetically. "And now they've all come rushing back to kill you." He patted Ianto's leg in support. "We'll stop them, Ianto. And if you like how we do it, we could always set you up in our Cardiff office instead."

Ianto shook his head at the man's persistence. "You never give up, do you?"

"At recruiting?" Nigel asked innocently. "Not really, no. Not when I see a good agent we could use."

"I'm not a good agent."

"That's not what I see," said Williamson.

"Then you're not seeing straight." Another yawn. "So stop trying to steal me away. I'm with Torchwood." _And Jack,_ he added silently to himself, though he would never admit it out loud, to anyone.

"Torchwood got you into all this," Williamson said softly.

"And Torchwood will get me out," Ianto replied testily.

Nigel turned and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I've pushed too hard. Rest. We'll be there soon. Before you know it Captain Harkness will be back and your friend from Cardiff will have arrived. And then you'll be heading into the thick of it."

"Don't remind me," Ianto murmured. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, and it seemed as only minutes had passed before the car stopped in a fairly typical London neighborhood. Nigel Williamson led him into a nearby building, into the basement and through a long tunnel to another building, where Jordan Ford was waiting for them in a basement flat, typing away on her PDA.

There was food and drink and Ianto sat down hungrily. He filled Ford in on his conversation with UNIT, and she nodded approvingly. After talking a bit more, Ianto found himself starting to doze in his chair, until the good doctor gently took his arm and led him into one of two bedrooms and directed him to sleep.

Ianto explored it a bit—no windows, closet and dresser, a small bathroom with toiletries and a set of sleeping clothes. He gratefully washed up as best as he could, changed into the clothing laid out for him, and climbed into bed. Jack wouldn't be back for another hour, and Tosh at least three. He might as well get some sleep and let his body start to heal. He was in for a long day. He'd be playing a dangerous game, and while he knew he could do it, that didn't mean he was looking forward to it.

More than anything, though, he wanted to fall asleep with Jack beside him, assuring him it would be all right, and promising him once again that when it was all over, they'd celebrate his birthday properly. He was still not used to this sort of field work; he was usually on the other side, providing the backup and support that he would now have to rely on from others.

He just hoped that he survived to go back to his regular duties. Which was a very strange thought to fall asleep with as he considered all that he did at Torchwood on a day to day basis.

* * *

Author's Note:

I am not a spy. I am not a secret agent. I am not a doctor. I am not a psychologist. And I am not a commander in a military organization designed to defend earth from aliens.

I am just an amateur writer muddling my way through what I imagine it might be like for those sorts of people to become entangled in one of my stories.

All right, off to start the next chapter. Ta for all the lovely reviews!


	11. Chapter Eleven

Jack was impatient to get back to London. He'd driven for a good hour, worrying about Ianto the entire time as he tried to concentrate on the road. He didn't like leaving Ianto behind alone, in spite of his logical brain telling him that Ianto was strong, was under protection, could more than handle himself, and had proved it a dozen times over since he'd first met the man.

Yet Jack also knew that the situation was close and personal for Ianto. Sometimes Jack still couldn't wrap his thoughts around just how bad Canary Wharf had been, how much Ianto had gone through that terrible day at Torchwood One. Of course he had heard stories, but to hear it from one of his own team members, from someone he cared about, made it even more heartbreaking. And to be honest, it brought back Jack's guilt tenfold, that he had done so little in the aftermath of the devastating battle that had all but destroyed Torchwood. He had scavenged for tech, but had done nothing for the survivors. Ianto had come to Cardiff practically begging for a job with Torchwood Three, but he had rarely talked about Canary Wharf after that. Jack should have done something, should have reached out to him before everything came crashing down around them with Lisa Hallet—before Ianto went through hell a second time.

It wouldn't happen again. Jack was not going to let the ghosts of Canary Wharf hurt Ianto any more than they already had. He would do anything to stop what was happening and make sure they both made it back to Cardiff with the memory of Torchwood One firmly behind them. He would not be haunted by something he had not even been a part of; he had enough of his own nightmares to deal with.

Finally turning around, Jack flipped on the radio as he returned to London, hoping it would calm his mind. It was a repeat of the previous nights' Proms concert, and Jack let the Beethoven symphony wash over him, though that particular period of classical music wasn't always to his taste. He idly wondered if it was for Ianto's ear, and if maybe they should try to go to a concert once this was all over. It seemed like something good to do in London, once things were safe. Bit more than the dinner and a movie they had done so far, but Friday's concert sounded interesting, with Mahler and Wagner. Jack usually preferred the grandiose drama of their music as opposed to the more simple beauty of earlier music. Of course, having been to several premieres and even met a composer or two during the last part of the 19th century, he was sort of biased in his preferences.

The trip back passed quickly thanks to Beethoven, and Jack pulled into the car park where Jordan Ford had instructed him to park Ianto's car. Obviously if he parked if front of the safe house, it would be a dead giveaway of their location. So he walked several blocks west, keeping his eye out for any sign of being followed. It was dark but not late, and the streets were still busy. He did not sense anyone paying particular attention to him, but he kept his hand on his Webley just in case.

He found the safe house and was relieved to see Nigel Williamson had arrived and was talking with Jordan Ford. That meant Ianto was likely there and safe as well. Williamson must have seen something in his face that gave away his thoughts, because the doctor smiled and inclined his head toward one of the bedrooms.

"He just went in to rest a bit before you returned. He's doing fine."

Jack nodded in thanks, then glanced around with a frown. "Where's Fiona?" he asked. "You're still watching her, right?"

This time Ford answered. "She's asleep in the other room. We tried to ask her some questions, but she grew too agitated."

"And I insisted that she go to bed," said Williamson. "She's had a trying day, and by the looks of it, more than one in recent months."

"Right," said Jack, nodding. He had sensed the same thing about Fiona's mysterious yet difficult life since Canary Wharf. So nothing more from Fiona, and Ianto was asleep. "Can I check on him?" Jack half wondered why felt the need to ask permission when Ianto was his team member, not theirs. Yet he sensed he should: Williamson was a doctor who seemed protective of his patients. The old man nodded with another smile.

"Of course. He asked us to let you in when you returned. He's just as worried about you."

There was an unspoken _As you are about him_ in the doctor's voice that made Jack grin sort of stupidly. And then the doctor winked, and it was fairly obvious that he had sussed out that something going on between Jack and Ianto, not that Jack could have said what it was, exactly. But it was something—something important, something special, something he wasn't ready to give up or lose after finding it again so soon.

Entering the room softly, Jack noticed the light on next to the bed, as if Ianto had left it on just for him. Yet Ianto appeared asleep and Jack hated waking him, so he merely tip-toed toward the bed, hoping to kiss him good night before retreating back to the main room. But Ianto spoke up from where he was sleeping on his side, facing away.

"I could hear those bloody boots of yours the moment you walked through the door," he grumbled, before turning over and blinking at Jack. "So don't bother sneaking out. I'm awake."

Jack sat down next to him, gazing at him in concern. "How do you feel?" he asked softly. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Not 'How did it go with UNIT?' I'm impressed."

"Ianto, you're hurt. How are you?"

Ianto sighed as he started to sit up. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a loose tee shirt, his arm still in a sling to protect it better while he slept. He yawned. "I'm fine. I'm tired and sore and anxious about tomorrow, but I'm fine." He pierced Jack with stormy blue eyes, since Jack probably looked as convinced as he felt. "Really, Jack."

"Okay, good." Jack leaned in to kiss him, surprising Ianto yet again. Why was he constantly so surprised? Were such displays of affection something Ianto and Lisa had not really shown one another much? Or was Ianto just not used to Jack's constant need for little touches or quick kisses? Did it make him uncomfortable? Pushing the thought from his mind, Jack pulled back and smiled.

"So how did it go with UNIT?" he asked with a wink, and was rewarded when Ianto grinned and nodded.

"That's more like it. And it went frighteningly well. I'm to meet with Collins at 0800 tomorrow at UNIT headquarters."

Jack shook his head, almost regretting that it had been so easy for Ianto to get in. If he had been worried before, now he was positively terrified. Walking into the viper's nest indeed. Even if it wasn't Collins who was behind the attacks, UNIT was still a bureaucratic cesspool of half-cocked arseholes who thought they saved the world every day, even though Torchwood had done more than UNIT ever had in combating actual alien threats.

Well, except for Canary Wharf, of course. Everyone had failed at that.

Ianto was watching him funny, and so Jack tried to smile, but Ianto nodded as if he knew exactly what Jack was thinking and agreed. "I know. It was almost too easy. Which makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"Wonder what the endgame is," replied Ianto. "I've just been lying here turning it over and over in my mind. Collins offered a bit of resistance, but then some of his reactions seemed genuine. So he's either a very gifted and calculated actor, or he may not be involved after all."

Jack shook his head. "It's got to be him. He's the one with the right access. It makes sense."

"There are three others at UNIT," Ianto reminded him. "If UNIT is even involved."

Jack didn't even want to think of the possibility that they were running in the wrong direction. "One of those people is off planet," he replied. "And you said yourself one is a glorified secretary."

"And then you pointed out just how good I was at being a glorified secretary," Ianto replied. "We PAs can be brilliant, you know."

"Don't I know it," murmured Jack, thinking about just how much Ianto had done to not only make Torchwood better, but save lives, save the planet even. "But her personal file had nothing in it to indicate the motivation or ability to pull this off."

"Neither did mine," Ianto reminded him, and Jack just rolled his eyes now.

"Fine, at the very least, she could be in on it, but my guess is that's all. This is bigger, somehow."

"Katherine Young," said Ianto, naming the final Canary Wharf survivor who had transferred to UNIT. "She's in Research and Recovery. An officer would have better access to resources like men in inconspicuous suits and poison dart guns, but it's still possible."

"Oh, she'd have access to the tech," said Jack, shaking his head and trying to put his finger on something niggling at the back of his mind. Motivation: they needed a motivation. "And she's probably good at blending in, becoming invisible and erasing her tracks. Researchers tend to be good like that."

He gave Ianto a very pointed look, and Ianto glanced away, knowing full well Jack was referring to the Junior Researcher from the ruins of Torchwood One who had somehow managed to save his half converted cyber girlfriend, bring her to Cardiff, and install her in the basement of the Hub. If it was one thing that Jack had learned that horrible night, it was that he could never underestimate people again, let them surprise him. Anyone could do anything if they put their mind to it, whether they were scientists, secretaries, or military officers.

"I guess we are," Ianto finally replied. He leaned back and sighed, rolling his shoulder in discomfort. "Jack, what have I got myself into? Honestly?"

Jack started to scoot up toward Ianto, to put his arm around the man's shoulder. "Shoes," Ianto murmured absently. And then, "Coat too. Love it but it's itchy."

Jack obediently shed his shoes and coat, took a seat neat to Ianto on the bed and leaned against the headboard with him, pulling him close. "I don't know, Ianto. But you'll be fine, I know that."

"Know it or believe it?" Ianto asked, without looking up.

"Both," answered Jack with a kiss to Ianto's temple. "I won't deny I'm worried sick, but that's because you've been shot. I have no problem sending you into a sewer full of howling Weevils, after all."

"Weevils are dumb animals," Ianto replied. "Whoever is behind this is not."

"And neither are we," said Jack, although he certainly felt a bit blindsided by it all. "Neither are _you_. I'm just about convinced you could talk the Queen into letting us have the Torchwood Christmas party at Balmoral if you tried."

Ianto burst out laughing. "Christmas in Scotland? What the hell, Jack? We don't even have a Christmas party. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," Jack grinned. "Sounded good in my head though."

"I'll give it a try next time I speak to her if you want to start a new tradition," Ianto replied. He had sat up to turn around and look at Jack, grinning and rolling his eyes at the same time. Jack was glad he could bring a smile to Ianto's face at that moment when they both needed it and leaned over to kiss him.

"Not really," he replied against Ianto's lips. "Been there, done that."

A very inelegant huff escaped Ianto, though their lips did not part. "Of course you have."

"The things I could show you, Ianto Jones," Jack murmured; Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Anything you could share in spite of the hole in my shoulder?" he asked.

And now Jack was the one who burst out laughing. "That's not what I meant, but I am capable of being gentle, if that's what _you_ meant."

Ianto gave a mock sigh. "I'm not going to be able to sleep until Tosh gets here, so let's see what you can do and what I can handle." He pulled back and made a face. "And please don't say 'You can handle me anytime'."

"I wasn't going to!" Jack protested.

"Oh yes you were," said Ianto. "But I'm down to one hand, so…"

"So?" returned Jack.

"So just don't let me lose my balance," Ianto murmured with that rare wink, and he leaned forward again to kiss him. "It's still my birthday, after all, and I've a busy day tomorrow."

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him close with a little growl, and together they put behind them the long day, the close calls, and the dangerous morning ahead. As Ianto finally drifted off to sleep, too exhausted to wait for Tosh, Jack vowed once more to make it up to him; Ianto Jones deserved a happy birthday more than just about anyone.

* * *

Author's note:

Bit of filler, but it turned out longer than I anticipated so here it is, peppered with a few more clues, I hope. I'll start the sting in the next chapter. And cross my fingers they survive somehow or I'll have to add an AU tag.

Oh! And I just have to point out that the Proms concert Jack listened to really did have Beethoven 6 on it, with Mahler and Wagner on the following Friday. Not sure which Jack really would have preferred, but having lived through Mahler and Wagner, I could see him enjoying it. I just like making those real life connections.

Thank you so much for reading! I've been bad at responding to reviews as it's busy back-to-school time here, but I appreciate all the reviews, I truly do.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Ianto woke to the sound of voices in the outer room. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he was and what happened: he was in a strange room, in a strange bed, in strange clothes. He tried to roll over and move his arm, only to find it strapped to his chest and throbbing with pain, and then it all came back to him: London, the shootings, the hotel, and the asinine plan he'd come up with to play spy.

With a groan, Ianto sat up and tried to rub the sleep from his scratchy face. He only succeeded in messing up his hair, and if he hadn't been in so much pain, he would have stopped to fix it before stumbling out into the living room. The bright light almost blinded him, and he held up a hand to his eyes, tempted to turn around and crawl right back into bed.

"Ianto!" cried a voice he recognized. Squinting into the light, he saw Tosh darting toward him and took a precautionary step backward as she looked like she wanted to tackle him. Fortunately, she noticed his hesitation, slowed down, and hugged him gently. He sighed happily into her warm embrace.

"You made it," he murmured. "Just in time to watch everything go to hell."

"Ianto," she reprimanded him. "What are you talking about? Jack told me you got in. We'll be with you all the way. It'll be fine." She patted him on his good arm as she led him into the kitchen, where Jack was sitting with Nigel Williamson and Fiona Shaw. He stood when he saw Ianto coming in with Tosh.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. We thought we'd have to wake you for your spa appointment." He winked at Tosh, then held out a chair for Ianto.

"You did wake me," Ianto grumbled good-naturedly as he sat down. "I'm sure the entire building heard you."

"Well, you do need to eat and get cleaned up so we can go over things with Tosh," Jack replied, ignoring the barb. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a pack of Weevils," Ianto replied without thinking, running a hand across his rough chin.

Dr. Williamson raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he reached out to take Ianto's wrist.

"Pulse is good," he said, then laid his hand on Ianto's forehead. "No temperature either."

"That's remarkably high tech, doctor," Ianto said dryly, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"It works," said Nigel with a small smile. "Now, more importantly, how's the pain?"

"You mean the hot knife that someone's ground into my shoulder and is slowly twisting around like a corkscrew?"

"Bad then," answered Jack, frowning, and the doctor stood with a nod to get something from the other room. Jack was standing behind him and ran a hand across his neck, massaging it gently to help him relax.

"Yes, bad," said Ianto replied, letting his eyes slip closed. "There is a hole in my body where there shouldn't be a hole. It hurts like hell."

"All right then, Ianto," said Nigel, returning with a syringe that made Ianto wince, plus several more pills. "This should get you through." And he plunged the needle into Ianto's upper arm without even asking; Ianto yelped, Jack laughed, and Tosh reprimanded Jack for not being more sympathetic.

"That's right, we don't all heal as fast as you," Ianto grumbled yet again. "Now, food and coffee before the madness begins."

Jack had set out breakfast for him and handed him a large cup of coffee before returning to his own seat. Ianto was pleasantly surprised to find it was prepared exactly as he liked it, although it certainly wasn't as good as the coffee Ianto served at the Hub.

"Thank you." Ianto tucked into the large bowl of porridge that had been waiting for him before turning toward Fiona. "How are you doing?"

Fiona was picking at a plate of fruit, her face pale and eyes downcast. "I'm fine, really."

"Fine, but?" asked Ianto, sensing there was more.

Fiona sighed. "You shouldn't go. You shouldn't be meeting with him."

"Why not?" asked Jack. "Is that who you were talking about yesterday, Michael Collins?"

"I don't know for sure," she mumbled, looking away to hide the fact that she clearly did know more than she was letting on. "I just know you're in danger. Even more now that they've tried to kill you twice. Don't go, Ianto."

Ianto laid his good hand over Fiona's. "I have to. I have to stop this. I'll be all right, they'll be watching me."

There were tears in her eyes. "He's a good man, really he is. Please don't hurt him."

Ianto glanced at Jack, confused. Fiona was telling him not to go, because he was in danger, yet at the same time, she didn't want Ianto hurting the man responsible. It didn't make sense, and Ianto could see Jack lean forward, ready to grill her. He shook his head at Jack, who leaned back and nodded in understanding.

"If he's a good man, why is he doing this?" Ianto asked softly.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I really don't know."

"But you know him personally, don't you?" asked Ianto. "You said he's a good man. How do you know he's a good man?"

Fiona was silent, and Ianto gave Jack a tiny nod, since he could see Jack itching to ask his own questions. He continued to eat, ready to step in should Jack push it too far.

"You told me he wouldn't hurt you," Jack said, and his voice was surprisingly kind. "That he couldn't. Why? How do you know him?"

Fiona glanced around like she was trying to escape. Dr. Williamson was watching her carefully, likely trying to gauge her reaction and make sure she did not panic as she had yesterday. Finally she closed her eyes.

"I didn't know him that well, but I knew his son," she whispered. "James Michael Collins, intelligence support." She took a deep breath. "Torchwood One."

Tosh let out a little gasp as Jack nodded and Ianto set down his spoon to take her hand again. "You were involved with him?" Fiona nodded, her eyes bright with tears. "And he died at Canary Wharf."

Another nod, with a whispered, "Converted."

Ianto let his head fall toward his chest. So Fiona Stewart had dated Michael Collin's son, who had died at Canary Wharf in excruciating pain. Ianto knew the elder Collins had lost an arm in the battle himself, and likely bore even more emotional scars than most of the survivors given his responsibility in running the ghost machine project that had brought the Cybermen through the void in the first place. And then killed his son.

"That's why he won't hurt you, why he can't," Jack said, and Fiona glanced up at him, eyes wide and frightened. "Because you're special to him. A living reminder of his son."

She burst into tears, and Ianto glanced up sharply to rebuke Jack for his insensitive words. But Jack had stood and pulled her into his arms, murmuring softly in her ear as he ran his hand down her back to comfort her. Nigel Williamson was already preparing another sedative to calm her down, while Tosh was watching Ianto closely, as if she was more worried about him and his own experience Canary Wharf coming back to haunt him. He gave her a weak smile.

"I'm fine," he mouthed, and she nodded sympathetically before returning to her coffee. She sighed, and Ianto took it as an opportunity to reassure her with light words. "You should have let me make the coffee, though," he murmured. He was rewarded with a smile and gave her a wink before he ducked his head down to finish his breakfast.

"All right," said Jack, returning to his chair as Williamson led Fiona toward the couch in the sitting room. "What have you got, Tosh? We need to get ready."

"Right," she said, sitting up straighter. "I've done the best I can, but I didn't want to use anything I thought UNIT might pick up. So no comms."

"Damn," muttered Jack. "I'd really like to be able to communicate in there."

"I know, but it's too obvious. It would compromise his story if they found him wired. So I brought the contacts."

"Contacts?" asked Ianto, and Toshiko grinned.

"The ones Jack asked me to look into last week before archiving them. I think they're going to be quite useful."

Ianto gave Jack a curious glance, which was returned with a bit of a sheepish shrug. "Sorry, I didn't want to get everyone's hopes up. If they work, it'll be great. If not, they're just another bit of alien tech someone can pull out again in twenty years and have a go at."

"And what do these contacts do?" asked Ianto.

"First of all, did you get them to work with our systems? Our software?" asked Jack, and Tosh nodded, looking proud.

"It took a while, but yes. I think they're ready to go."

"You think?" asked Ianto. "Have they ever been tried?"

"Not by us, so it looks like you're the first," replied Jack with a broad grin. "Trust me, they'll be fun."

"And what do they do again?" Ianto repeated himself, trying to remain patient.

Tosh pulled a small case from the bag next to her. "They're cameras, and they transmit a signal. We'll be able to see everything you're seeing."

"So don't go doing anything naughty," Jack murmured.

"As if I could," Ianto replied, inclining his head toward his bum shoulder. "What about sound? Will you be able to hear the people I'm talking to?"

"Not exactly," said Tosh, frowning. "I've got some rudimentary lip reading software up and running, but it's not perfect. It's all we've got though, and the important thing is we'll be able to see what's going on."

"And UNIT scans won't detect them?" asked Ianto, taking the case and turning it over in his hands. "You're certain?"

"I'm certain they've never seen anything like it," said Tosh, sounding confident. "And I tried every scan we've got and couldn't pick up anything unusual. Even the signal it sends is masked somehow to be virtually undetectable."

"Good work," said Jack, and Tosh preened a bit. "What else?"

With another nod, Tosh went back into her bag. "Standard tracking device under the skin, in case we lose touch. And a few concealed weapons that could always be useful in a pinch."

Ianto watched as she pulled out a pen that had been modified into a small knife, cuff links that had some sort of poison inside, and a credit card that could apparently read authorization codes almost instantaneously and get him into restricted areas should he need to go snooping.

"Thank you, Agent Q," Ianto finally said with a wry grin. "Now I know where Hollywood gets all their ideas. Toshiko Sato, spy extraordinaire."

Tosh actually blushed. "No, I got most of the ideas from them—all those Bond movies you've got me to watch."

"Knew it would be worth it," Ianto said with a wink. He enjoyed spending time with Tosh, especially while Jack had been gone. They had grown closer during those long months, and watching old movies—especially old spy and monster movies—had been a favorite pastime; living the real thing had made the films especially amusing and had always resulted in a good deal of laughter during a difficult time.

"I like James Bond," said Jack, glancing back and forth between them with an innocent look on his face.

"You can join us next time then," Ianto said, rather enjoying Jack's rare moment of, if not outright jealousy, then slight envy. "We've got one more Roger Moore film, then Dalton and Brosnan. Although I'd rather skip Dalton."

Jack looked confused, and both Tosh and Ianto laughed. Ianto finished his coffee quickly but silently as they continued to talk, letting his mind wander freely over everything he had to do that day, then stood, feeling much better than when he had left his room earlier.

"I'm going to go get cleaned and suited up." He paused. "You did bring my suit?" he asked, suddenly terrified that he might have to meet with UNIT in casual pants and a button down shirt. He needed that suit; it would be his mask, his armor. Tosh nodded.

"I hung it in your closet as soon as I got here," she laughed. "I know how much you hate wrinkles."

"Then you know me well," Ianto replied. "Although I didn't hear you, you should have said something when you got in."

"I didn't want her to wake you," Jack said, standing with him. "Now, do you need help with that arm of yours?" The raised eyebrows suggested he wanted to do more than help, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Help cleaning up and getting dressed, yes. Help with anything else, no." Tosh was watching them curiously as Ianto turned and left. He heard Jack sigh dramatically behind him.

"He's no fun," he stage-whispered to Tosh.

Ianto grinned to himself. "Tosh, can you help me then?" he called.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Jack. "I'll be a good boy."

"Doubt it," Ianto murmured as Jack followed him into the bathroom.

"I can, you know," Jack returned. He gently helped Ianto out of the sling then the shirt, wincing in time with Ianto as his shoulder twinged with each movement. Jack started the shower and turned back to Ianto. "When I want to be."

"Rare as that is," Ianto replied, stepping out of the pyjama pants he'd found laid out for him the night before and holding his arm against him as he stepped into the shower. The warm water stung yet felt good, and then felt even better when Jack stepped in beside him and began helping him with the soap and shampoo.

"How do you manage to get undressed so fast?" asked Ianto. Jack kissed his neck.

"Lots of practice."

"I don't even want to know," Ianto returned. "Just keep doing what you're doing and help me into my suit when you're done. And a shave, if you can manage it without knicking up my face like teenage boy."

"That'll be a first—helping you dress instead of undress." Jack had washed his good arm, making sure to keep his injured shoulder as dry as possible. He ran his hands across Ianto's chest and moved down his legs. "And yes, I can do a clean shave. Just relax."

Ianto sighed in contentment as Jack continued, remembering the doctor's words from the night before: _"Some time you might have to let him take care of you."_

Apparently this was one of those rare times, and for once in his life, Ianto didn't mind being pampered a bit.

And for once in his life, Jack was actually a good boy, just like he said.

* * *

Author's Note:

Gah, I know I said we'd get started next chapter but no one would cooperate with me. They wanted to eat and talk and clean up and all that. So I'm sending him in next chapter, flying by the seat of my pants because in spite of all your lovely reassurances, I really don't feel like much of a spy, even an amateur one with a thoroughly overactive imagination. And there are so many ideas running around in my head I can barely pick a direction to follow and run with. If you see a one-shot pop up, that means I needed to clear my head. Of a great many things.

Thanks again for the reads and reviews. I really appreciate the encouragement and hope I don't let anyone down!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The walk to UNIT headquarters did not take long, yet Ianto felt like he was an exposed target the entire time. Though he felt much better for having showered and shaved, his shoulder ached and he was still trying to get used to the contacts. The contacts didn't change the way he saw and he could barely feel them, but knowing he was a walking camera made him feel like he was wearing a 200mm lens on his eye that everyone could see.

UNIT was located in the Tower of London. Ianto had been there twice during his time with Torchwood One, and once with Jack as part of Torchwood Three. So while he was familiar with it, he was in no way comfortable, knowing both the building's sordid past and the organization's complicated history.

He was stopped at the visitor's entrance—not the one for tourists, the other one—and showed his Torchwood identification, relaying his appointment with Commander Michael Collins. After a quick check, the guard handed him a visitor's badge; again it felt too easy. It was harder to get through the airport these days.

"Commander Collins will be down in a moment," said the guard. Ianto clipped the badge to his suit coat and sat down nearby. No one eyed him curiously, even with his arm in a sling. Probably because it wasn't usual for Torchwood to be in contact with UNIT, and perhaps not even unusual for them to see injured personnel, though Ianto knew the circumstances were anything but normal. He carefully composed himself, thinking on how he would broach the subject with Collins.

A message popped up in his vision, startling him. Words floating in the air were just hard to get used to, even after trying it out several times at the safe house. Ianto had quietly but firmly warned Jack not to send him dirty messages before he'd left; Jack had pouted, though Ianto trusted that Jack was aware of the seriousness of the situation. Fortunately, the message only said _Good luck. _Tosh, then.

Ianto did not have to wait for long. Commander Collins soon appeared, UNIT uniform looking out of place on a man Ianto remembered from Torchwood One as a scientist, dressed in casual clothes with a lab coat, hair mussed up and eyes wide behind glasses too large for his face. Yet the man before him now was stiff and formal, short hair touched with grey, old glasses replaced by severe round spectacles.

And, of course, there was the arm: his left arm lost in the battle to the shoulder, Collins obviously had his uniforms tailored so that the empty armhole did not hang at his side, reminder of his loss. In all, he looked like a man who had absorbed the tragedy of Canary Wharf into his very soul, allowing it to change him completely. Whether it was as penance or a sign of madness, Ianto was not sure. He sensed a fragile yet volatile man before him, and knew he would have to tread carefully.

Standing, he faced Collins and offered a nod, unable to shake hands with his own arm in the sling. The commander cocked his head in response and indicated Ianto should follow. They had not even exchanged words, and Ianto decided to wait until Collins spoke. It seemed the best way to play the situation was to remain deferential, as he had on the phone, and to let Collins believe he had control. So Ianto waited in silence until they stepped into a lift that took them down toward the lower levels where UNIT truly functioned, hidden from London.

"How's your arm?" asked Collins quietly, and Ianto was surprised at the gentle tone to the man's voice. He had sounded far more gruff on the phone the night before, though it could perhaps be one man simply sympathizing with another man's arm injury.

"It was my shoulder, sir, and it's doing better, thank you. It was just a graze." Which wasn't completely true, but Ianto did not want to let on to the extent of his injuries; he was smart enough to know he should hold back that card or it would give the other player an advantage.

"Good," said Collins, and he was silent again as they exited the lift and walked down a long, well-lit corridor. They passed several offices and a few UNIT personnel who again did not really give Ianto much of a second glance. Ianto was starting to find it a bit odd, when a thought occurred to him, and he glanced down at his badge, then looked around again, still feeling invisible.

"I wouldn't remove it if I were you," said Collins under his breath. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why don't you want anyone seeing me?" asked Ianto. He worked hard to keep the accusation out of his voice and to sound confused instead; in reality, he was angry with himself for already miscalculating the danger he had put himself in. He wondered if the others watching had picked up anything, and wished he had some way of communicating directly. Tosh would figure it out eventually; when she did, he just hoped Jack wasn't bursting through the doors with a machine gun.

Collins didn't answer until they came to his office at the end of the corridor. He ushered Ianto inside and shut the door behind them before finally speaking. "Because I just think it's better if we keep this to ourselves."

Again, Ianto's instincts were telling him that he was in danger, that Collins had quickly and effectively trapped him there and could now do as he pleased, all covered up by the sophisticated perception filter somehow worked into Ianto's badge. Yet he also told himself to keep playing the game: he couldn't show his cards—or his fear—yet. _Be careful,_ said the message floating before his eyes. _Don't trust him._

"Did you find something then?" asked Ianto, blinking away the text. He sat down, idly placing his hand in the coat pocket where he had stashed the weaponized pen Tosh had given him and a small notepad where he had scribbled some notes. He opened the notepad and began to flip through it. "Because now that Ewan MacDaniel is dead, that only leaves…" he paused, as if counting, though he knew the number by heart. "Eleven of us, sir. Eleven survivors of Torchwood One."

He saw the commander's face harden at the mention of Canary Wharf, but the man only shook his head. "No, I didn't find anything other than what you shared with me."

Ianto frowned, pretending more confusion. "Then why the filter? Do you think I'm still in danger? Here at UNIT?"

Michael Collins laughed bitterly as he stood and moved toward a small table where a teapot and several cups sat waiting to be served. "Earl Grey?" he asked. Ianto shook his head.

"No thank you, I prefer coffee this time of day." He put on his best baffled face. "I'm confused, sir. Why the perception filter? Do you think there's a conspiracy?"

"Oh, I know there's a conspiracy," said Collins, helping himself to a cup of tea. Ianto didn't even blink as he watched the man pour a generous amount of something from a silver flask into the cup; it was fairly obvious from the commander's shaking hands what it was. He returned to sit next to Ianto and pierced him with shadowed eyes. "What I need to know, though, is why you are really here."

"Excuse me?" asked Ianto. His heart started racing; was the game up so soon? No, he wasn't done playing, and he was not going to let some erratic UNIT arsehole dictate to him when it was over. If Collins wanted answers, Ianto would make them up. He usually avoided questions, preferring to remain in the background with his ability to not generate much interest in his activities, but when it came to lying, he could still make up a good story; he'd been doing it for years.

"Why are you here, Ianto Jones? Why are you in London? Why did you call me? I don't understand how you got involved in this." Michael Collins paused to take a sip of his tea, watching Ianto over the rim of the cup. "I guess I'm not sure whether I can trust you."

"I'm Torchwood, commander," said Ianto stiffly, and the commander grinned a bit ferally.

"Exactly." He was quiet a moment. "So tell me first then, why Torchwood Three, Mr. Jones? Why did you stay? Are the rumours true?"

_Careful,_ read the text before his eyes. _He's searching._

Maintaining his stiffness, which wasn't hard as it kept him from shaking as he tried to stay afloat in a rapidly changing game, Ianto blinked away the words and raised an eyebrow. "What rumours, sir? There are always stories of some sort floating around out there. There were all sorts at Torchwood One."

Another bitter laugh. "That's certainly true. You seem exceptionally talented at evading questions, Mr. Jones. Why is that?"

"I learned it at Torchwood One," Ianto snapped back, feeling he could show a bit of backbone or Collins might lose interest. "And if you must know, I went to Torchwood Three to save my girlfriend. She was partially converted, and it was the only place I could think of with access to the kind of technology that might help her."

Ianto could imagine Jack swearing as he watched through the camera lenses, if they were able to hear anything through the software Tosh had developed. It didn't matter: he had laid down a partial hand, nothing more. For some reason, he had to gain Collins' trust, and if this would do it, then so be it.

Collins set down his tea and stared at him. "So it was you, then. I read the report about a rogue Cyberman in Cardiff. Your girlfriend." He sat back, fingers steepled in front of him like a predator, but the look in his eyes was nothing but sadness and grief. "What was her name?"

"Lisa Hallett, sir," said Ianto. "She was in human resources."

"Were you able to do anything for her?" Collins asked. Ianto took a deep breath as more words floated before him. _Jack says stop now._ Ianto nodded, but didn't stop. If this was what he needed to do, then he would. He didn't have to pretend that it was upsetting him, because it was, but he hoped it helped his case.

"No, sir. I tried to alleviate the pain, brought in a specialist, but her conversion was too far gone to reverse. Torchwood Three was forced to terminate her." _Kill her, _Ianto thought in his mind. _Murder._ He shook his head to stay focused; it was over and done. It had happened and he had moved on.

"So Jack Harkness shot your girlfriend, and yet you stayed on. You brought a Cyberman into his precious Hub and he _let_ you stay on. Why is that?"

"I'm good at what I do, sir," Ianto answered. He was starting to get angry, because it was none of this man's business, that particular convoluted mess. Yet he knew he needed to stay calm; it was entirely possible that Collins was just winding him up in order to distract him, or worse, get him to slip up in some way. Ianto had not had much experience as a spy, but he knew well enough how to work people, and when he was being worked.

_Im sory. _That would be Jack typing. _Doing good. Find out more._

"I'm sorry Commander, but where is this going?" Ianto asked, striking a balance between confused and frustrated. "I don't understand what it has to do with the fact that someone is taking out the rest of Torchwood One. They tried to shoot me yesterday, sir. Twice."

Collins nodded slowly. "Any idea why? Why kill the rest of Torchwood One?"

"I've no idea, sir. I was a junior researcher, I didn't know much about the inner workings of the organization. I'm still not entirely sure what happened that day." He didn't have to say which day he meant, and he wasn't lying. So much of it was a mystery, a blur, as he'd raced to escape for help; though he had pieced most of it together, sometimes he wasn't sure he wanted to know the entire story.

Collins took a long sip from his drink, set down the empty cup and stood up to walk around a bit. He stopped and stared at a picture on the wall, a print of the London skyline, from before the tower had come down. "You don't want to know," he said softly, his voice filled with nothing but grief. Ianto began to wonder once more if he was dealing with a madman, because Collins seemed so erratic.

"Maybe not, but I'd like continue my unique status as a survivor," Ianto offered dryly, and was rewarded when Collins turned to face him with a half grin. "Which is why I've come to you for help."

"I'm not sure how I can help you, Mr. Jones," said Collins with what was obviously a fake and very forced shrug.

"You could help me figure this out," said Ianto, standing to face him. "Help protect us. There are only eleven of us left. You haven't been targeted yet, have you?"

"Not that I'm aware of." There was another small smile tugging at the corners of Collins mouth that Ianto couldn't read. He frowned; the man was so unpredictable he wasn't quite as sure how to play him. Nonetheless, he pushed forward.

_Careful. _Damn contacts. Did Jack think he'd rush in blindly and give himself away?

"Captain Harkness has given me leave to stay on in London," Ianto said, playing his next card. "He's even authorized a transfer if you'll accept it." That had not gone over well with Jack, but Tosh had been able to backdate the request almost before Jack could protest.

That seemed to catch Collins off guard. "A transfer? To what?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "To UNIT. Temporary, of course."

Collins just stared at him; Ianto had left him genuinely speechless and pressed his advantage. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I can help you," he said. "Whatever is going on, I can help." He hoped the double meaning in his statement was implicit and understood: he could help Collins track down the perpetrators, or he could help him finish what he had started.

"Help me how?" asked Collins, and for the first time, Ianto saw fear in the man's eyes. He did not feel triumphant, however, because it was not the fear of being discovered. Ianto knew that look, had seen it on his own face for so many months while he hid Lisa below. It was the fear of a man who knew he was fighting a losing battle, and Ianto knew that look as well.

"However you wish. That's my job at Torchwood Three: I do whatever has to be done."

Collins nodded slowly. "You're a surprising man, Mr. Jones."

"How so, sir?" asked Ianto. They were still standing, though facing one another with less of a challenge now and more of an understanding developing between them.

"You come in asking for one thing, and end up offering quite another. You know far more than you are letting on, I think."

"It's part of my job, sir," said Ianto, staying stiff and still but offering the barest of smiles in acceptance of the compliment.

"Does Harkness know?" asked Collins abruptly. "About the others?"

"No, sir," said Ianto. "He knows I was shot, but he believes MacDaniel was the target given that he worked for the Home office. Which was the only reason I convinced him to go back to Cardiff when the Rift spit out a rather aggressive Hoix."

Collins suddenly threw back his head and laughed. "A Hoix? Big dumb brutes. I'm sure Harkness will love running it down."

_True. They are fun._

"Oh, we've had them drop by before," said Ianto, ignoring Jack and feeling like he almost had his footing with the man before him. Collins was unpredictable, which meant Ianto needed to be the same and simply go with the man's moods. "And they are quite big and dumb."

There was a long silence before Collins nodded, either to Ianto or to himself. "All right, Jones. I'm trusting you, God knows why. I know more than I'm letting on as well."

"I had gathered, sir," said Ianto with a deferential nod of his head in return. Collins laughed, the same bitter laugh that Ianto had heard already, but this time it was filled with a touch of defeat, as if Collins knew he had lost.

"This is a bad place to talk, though. Someone might be listening. We don't exactly trust one another here at UNIT."

"Drawback of working with a large para-military organization, sir," said Ianto. "You should try something smaller."

Collins raised an eyebrow. "Like Torchwood, perhaps?" When Ianto didn't answer, Collins shook his head. "No thank you, Mr. Jones. Torchwood is no longer a part of my life."

Ianto felt his heart speed up as he anticipated a confession. Which was a ridiculous thing to expect at that moment, so soon, given how up and down Collins had been throughout their exchange. Yet the look that crossed the man's face as he said it was not one of anger and bitterness, but of sadness and grief. And again, Ianto recognized something else perhaps only he could recognize: guilt. Collins felt guilty, but for what?

"Torchwood is difficult," Ianto agreed carefully, not wanting to show any more cards with such a rapidly changing player. He could still remain neutral before they reached the tipping point.

"Torchwood is dying a slow death," said Collins, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "But you might be able to help me stop it."

_Watch yourself._

Again, Ianto didn't know how to take the commander's words: was it a confession, or a plea for help? Was Collins the one behind it all, or did he know who was, and was he trying to get Ianto to help put a stop to it?

Taking a deep breath, Ianto committed himself to whatever scenario might play out, because either way, he needed to be on the inside. "I'm at your service, commander. Whatever you need."

"For Torchwood," said Collins softly, black eyes piercing Ianto's with an almost manic light.

"For Torchwood," Ianto replied steadily.

In his mind, he added _For Ewan, and Fiona, and all the others. _

And then four words floated across his vision, four words he knew were from Jack: _For Lisa. And you._

* * *

Author's Note:

Okay, this was fun. I enjoyed it, I admit. I'm pumped for the next part, but the one-shot comes first. Jack and Ianto needed to get something out, so I need to let them have their way with me before the next chapter or things could get ugly inside my head.

Thank you again for the amazing reviews! I never would have thought that something like this would be taken to so well, but I guess we all need a story that's not about Jack and Ianto fighting or shagging. Thanks again!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

"I don't like this," Jack said, leaning over Tosh to type _Watch yourself_ as they watched Ianto inside UNIT headquarters. The sound software wasn't quite clear, but they had understood enough to know Ianto had just placed himself in a great deal of potential danger with his offer to Michael Collins. It was impossible to know whether the man was guilty, he was so enigmatic, and thus to even guess what Ianto might have offered: was he joining the man, or saving him?

"For Torchwood," said Commander Collins, and Jack almost shivered at the mad look in the man's eyes. He was vaguely aware of Ianto echoing him, and reached over to type once more.

_For Lisa. And you._

Tosh glanced up at him, her eyes bright. Jack just gave her a half smile as they watched Ianto leave the office with Collins, half step behind him, much like he walked with Jack. The two men continued down the corridor, toward the lift. Yet when the doors opened, Jack felt his heart unexpectedly drop. There were three armed UNIT soldiers inside, standing behind a very harsh looking woman who couldn't have been much older than Ianto, yet looked much more serious and severe than Ianto ever did. Her long brown hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, her makeup harsh yet precise, her tailored business suit a dark blue that washed out pale skin. When she smiled at them, Jack noticed the same gleam in her eyes that he recognized in many a predator; this woman was not to be trifled with.

Apparently Ianto had the same impression, and he glanced at Collins to see how the commander reacted. Collins, however, had gone pale and stepped backward. Ianto actually reached out toward the man to keep him from staggering, it seemed, until Collins righted himself and simply nodded. Ianto followed the man into the lift with the others; no one had spoken a word.

_Something's wrong!_ Jack typed furiously over Tosh's shoulder. He could feel it in his gut: those soldiers weren't there by coincidence, that woman was obviously waiting for them, and none of their intentions were good. He watched as Ianto's field of vision bobbed up and down, as if nodding. At least he was thinking the same thing, but what to do about it?

Without warning, the screen went black.

"Tosh!" Jack exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. "What happened? Get him back!"

"Trying, Jack," Tosh said, her fingers flying furiously over the keys. She frowned in frustration. "Something's stopped the signal, though. I don't know what it could be, since they shouldn't have even known it was there."

"Could he be unconscious?" He didn't want to think anything worse.

Tosh glanced up at him, wide-eyed. "He could. But I highly doubt they'd knock him out in the lift of UNIT headquarters. I think they've just blocked the signal."

"But you said it was undetectable!" he said, worry overcoming common sense and professionalism. "Tosh, we sent him in there, we can't just lose him!"

"It is undetectable!" she exclaimed back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened!" The guilt and fear in her voice stopped Jack, and he touched her arm gently in penance.

"No, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm just…" He trailed off, and she nodded, laying her hand on his.

"I know," she said. "Look, maybe they just assumed he was bugged and jammed everything they could for precautionary measures."

"Which means they're onto him," said Jack, his voice grim.

"Or Collins," said Tosh. "Did you see the look on his face? He was terrified, Jack. He might not be the one we're looking for. Maybe it's her."

"Find out who that woman was," Jack said. "She looked familiar. And try to get the signal back."

"What's happened?" asked Fiona Stewart, standing at the doorway. She had overheard most of their conversation and looked pale and frightened. "What's happened to Ianto?"

"Nothing," said Jack, stepping around the table to soothe her as Dr. Williamson followed her into the room. "Or at least, we don't think anything's happened. His camera has gone off, that's all."

"What did you mean about Commander Collins?" she asked. "Why was he terrified?"

Jack looked into her sad face, brushing a loose strand hair away from the scars on her neck. "I don't know. Is there anything else you can think of, anything you can tell us? Something he might have been worried about or scared of?"

"No, I don't know," she whispered. "I couldn't say…" She stepped back and turned into Nigel Williamson's arms. The doctor glanced over her head at Jack and sighed.

"I've already given her something, please don't upset her as I can't keep giving her more."

Jack nodded in apology, though he was frustrated; Fiona did know more, but she was only sharing it in bits and pieces. Jack couldn't help thinking they would be a lot better off if she just told them everything, yet she almost seemed incapable of it. Between the horror of Canary Wharf and whatever had been happening since, she was obviously fragile, if not broken. He only hoped that they could help her when they had stopped whatever was going on.

"I've got the woman from the lift," Tosh called. "Came right up in the UNIT personnel database. She's Torchwood One, Jack."

Jack whirled; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fiona turn with wide eyes as well. "What?" he demanded, racing around the table to his place over Tosh's shoulder again. There was the woman's file, pulled up on the laptop. Anastasia Morgan, 30. Personal assistant to the Head of the Requisitions Department.

"She's one of the survivors," Jack breathed. "I knew I recognized her. She's the glorified secretary."

"You think she's behind it?" asked Tosh, sounding skeptical.

"Never underestimate the power of a good PA, Tosh," Jack murmured, eyeing the woman's file. She'd narrowly escaped Canary Wharf with three others from her department, all of whom Jack was fairly sure had taken the Retcon offered in the wake of the disaster. She had come to UNIT not long after recovering from her injuries. As the secretary for the Head of Requisitions, she would certainly have access to any equipment and technology needed for taking down the remaining survivors. Yet again the question was _why_ she needed it.

"What do we do, Jack? Do we go in?" she asked.

For some reason, Jack felt Nigel Williamson's eyes on him. He glanced up to catch the doctor watching him. When Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly, the doctor merely shook his head. Jack hadn't been looking for an opinion, but found that knowing the doctor's thoughts were in line with his own still made him feel better about it.

"No, not yet." He hated saying it out loud, knowing he was deliberately leaving Ianto in a potentially dangerous situation. "But keep working on the camera, and pull up the tracker signal. I want to know if he leaves the building and where he goes. And try to make some connections between Morgan and the others."

Tosh set to work as Jack worried at his thumb and watched; what the hell was really going on?

* * *

Ianto stepped into the lift against his better judgment. Collins' reaction to seeing the woman before them—Ianto had recognized her immediately from hours of pouring over the Torchwood One files—had been completely unexpected. It was almost as if he was afraid of the woman; Ianto had thought for a moment the commander might collapse. And from the way Anastasia Morgan was looking at them both, Ianto had a feeling there was a good reason for the commander's reaction.

As the lift doors closed, two words fluttered across his vision. _Something's wrong!_ Obviously. Ianto nodded in agreement, his mind working fast and furiously to try and piece everything together and stay alert.

Morgan took out a small metal device, distracting him; was it a weapon? He fingered the pen in his pocket, conscious of the soldiers behind him, but she just flicked a light on the device and smiled to herself before turning toward Ianto and Collins. "There, just in case either one of you is wired, that should do the trick." She paused and cocked her head. "Although we would have caught it already, but you never know with Torchwood, right Mr. Jones? All sorts of secret alien tech over there."

Ianto kept his face carefully composed; if her device canceled electronic signals, then there was a good chance the contacts were out, and possibly the tracker. At least he could still see, but it was likely that Jack and Tosh were panicking over their own sudden loss of vision. He merely shrugged in response. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ms. Morgan."

Anastasia smiled, though it was not pleasant. "Oh, very good. You did your homework. You know my name."

"I'm always prepared," Ianto returned. "You never know with UNIT."

She raised an eyebrow in response. "And the dry wit of Ianto Jones appears. I remember hearing about it back at One. And there are still stories floating around about you every time we contact Three."

"I try my best," Ianto replied, making it extra dry.

"And you're quite good, aren't you?"

"It's part of the job description."

Collins was watching their exchange wide-eyed, all the pomp and arrogance from earlier gone the moment they had entered the lift. He looked ten years older, as if he knew some terrible fate awaited him. Was Morgan the one, then? But how could she possibly expect to get away with murder in the middle of UNIT headquarters?

"Where are you taking us?" Ianto asked after a long silence. It didn't seem possible, but the lift had gone down farther still, and Morgan didn't reply until they stepped out into a cold, dark corridor that Ianto knew immediately was akin to the vaults at the Hub. This was the UNIT prison; he idly wondered if they were to be thrown in a cell with an alien, then dismissed it. He had done nothing wrong.

Stopping in front of a door that was obviously a jail cell, Morgan motioned to one of the soldiers to unlock the door. "You are both under arrest. Commander Collins, you are charged with the theft and misuse of classified UNIT property, murder, and treason against the British government."

Collins just stared at her, his mouth working soundlessly. "You can't do this, you have no authority—"

"I have been authorized by both the Head of Requisitions and General Brightman to conduct and conclude the ongoing investigation into several missing pieces of both military and alien technology from the Requisitions Department. You will be court marshaled accordingly. Until then, your new office is down here." She motioned to one of the guards, who began to frisk Collins and remove anything he could possibly use to escape, from his keys and badge to his belt. Then he pushed the commander into the small cell and locked the door.

"As I am not a member of UNIT and have no connection to whatever you are investigating, I assume I am free to go?" asked Ianto. He knew it was a useless attempt, but it might give him more information to work with.

"Nice try, Mr. Jones," Morgan replied conversationally. "But no. You are under arrest as well. You were recorded offering your services to Commander Collins. As we suspect him of using the missing tech to murder innocent people, we can only assume you have offered to either help him continue, or help him clean up. You are therefore placed under arrest for conspiracy and will be held until further charges are made."

The guard began patting Ianto down. He didn't have a gun, as he knew perfectly well it would have been confiscated at the visitor's entrance. The man took his pen and notepad, however, as well as his wallet and badge. Ianto was glad he had kept Tosh's fake credit card hidden in his shoe for some odd reason, though he had no idea what he would use it for.

He was literally thrust into the cell next to Collins with no further word. It was small and square, with only a single table and chair bolted to the floor. There were no windows, no objects of any other kind unless one counted the security camera mounted in the corner. Memories of being held captive in the Brecon Beacons flashed through his mind, and Ianto took several deep breaths to keep from panicking. He did not have the penknife, but he still had the cufflinks and credit card. The contacts probably weren't working, but hopefully the tracking device Tosh had shot into his neck was, so they could still find him if needed. It would be all right.

Pacing out his nervous energy, Ianto tried to figure out what had just happened. He had been fairly certain Collins was behind the murders of the surviving Torchwood One personnel, but now he had his doubts. It seemed possible if not likely that Collins had been asking for Ianto's help in stopping it, given the man's reaction to Anastasia Morgan.

Ianto stopped pacing and blew out a breath. Anastasia Morgan. The secretary. Damn if he hadn't told Jack—

Never mind. It was also still possible she was actually doing her job and that Collins really had stolen the equipment and had been caught, however unlikely it was given his rank; he'd have no reason to steal tech when he had easy access to it. Yet perhaps that's what he had been so afraid of, being found. Ianto had heard stories of UNIT prison from Tosh and if he hadn't been fairly certain Jack would eventually pull his weight and get him out, he'd be worried as well.

And yet, Collins' reaction to Morgan had been much more than the fear of being discovered and arrested. That initial step back had been the terror of a man who was not only afraid for his own life, but for others as well. Which could mean it was entirely possible that Collins' was being framed. Knowing his own ability at subterfuge as a 'glorified secretary', Ianto had little doubt Anastasia might be capable of the same. And yet the question came back to why?

Why would she do such a thing? Collins had motivation: he'd lost an arm, a son, a life. In some ways he had been responsible for Canary Wharf, as much if not more than Yvonne Hartmann given his pivotal role in the ghost shifts. Ianto had thought that perhaps guilt, grief, or madness drove the man to murder. He had not seen anything in Morgan's file that might indicate her own reasons for destroying what was left of Torchwood One.

Which meant perhaps it wasn't her, either. Perhaps there was someone higher up, someone with reason, someone with access to manipulate all the right players in what was turning out to be a complicated game of chess. Ianto started pacing again, running his free hand through his hair as he continued to run through it over and over in his mind.

It just kept getting more complicated though, and he could only hope that Jack and Tosh were puzzling it out better than he was, now that he was locked away in the bowels of the Tower of London.

* * *

"Any luck, Tosh?" Jack asked, pacing the tiny kitchen where he and Tosh had been watching the laptop until the contact lenses had gone dark. He was still trying to figure out what he was missing while Tosh worked her computer magic to try to get them back online. As he hadn't thought of anything, he felt rather useless, and decided an update—even though he'd just had one fifteen minutes ago—was due.

"His tracking signal is still working, and he's still deep underground. I'm guessing they've put him in the cells." She looked up with worried eyes; Jack remembered Tosh's own experience in a UNIT prison and tried to imagine what she was feeling for Ianto. He sat down beside her and placed a hand on her arm to reassure her.

"We'll get him out," Jack said, trying to smile as confidently as he could. "If he doesn't get out himself first. You gave him a couple of tricks, after all."

"They've probably taken the pen," she said, unusually pessimistic. "Possibly the cufflinks, although I'm not sure what he'd use them for anyway. And the credit card is useless from the inside, if they didn't take his wallet."

"He slipped it into his shoe," Jack said absently, wondering about that; hopefully it would prove useful. "And I'm sure he can come up with something to do with the cufflinks, even if he shoves them down someone's throat."

"Jack!" she exclaimed, and he shrugged.

"I'm thinking these people probably deserve it. Found anything else?"

Her computer dinged at her just then, and she turned back, glanced at it, and nodded. "Yes. And this is interesting. Anastasia Morgan survived Torchwood One with three others from her department. They all took the Retcon and went back to civilian life." She paused and turned to Jack. "And they are all dead. The first ones killed, in fact."

Jack whistled under his breath. "That's not a coincidence, is it?"

"I doubt it," Tosh murmured, typing away again. "And it all started not long after she moved to the Requisitions department at UNIT, so she would—"

"—would have access to the tech." Jack frowned. "But how would she have access to special ops, snipers, that sort of thing? That doesn't make sense. That suggests more command authority."

"Maybe she's not working alone?" suggested Tosh, and Jack blew out a breath in frustration.

"This is ridiculous. Why can't we just follow the evidence, find the killer, and arrest them? That's how most good spy stories work."

"Unfortunately, this is not a James Bond movie." Tosh smiled in spite of the gravity of the situation. "There's usually multiple players, last minute reveals, that sort of thing in a real mystery."

"What we're missing is the motivation. Why would Anastasia Morgan do something like this?" Jack stood up and started pacing again as Tosh continued to work. He was anxious and wished he had something better to do than just sit and wait and pace. He needed action, needed to be in the thick of it. Ianto had been right: Jack hated being left out, especially when it left one of his team in danger.

Time seemed to pass slowly. It was mid morning, and they still had nothing. Jordan Ford had said she'd come by with breakfast, but had not arrived. Nigel Williamson was unable to get a hold of her, so Jack decided to head out on his own in spite of the doctor's warnings. He was bored, he was hungry, and he was tired of feeling trapped inside and useless.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one viewed it—the short trip to a local Starbucks was uneventful, and he brought back coffee for them all, the scent of it making him really wish Ianto was there to sip it with him, safe and sound and not locked up deep within UNIT.

After asking Tosh for another update and talking with the doctor again, Jack got up to continue his pacing. Yet he was quickly stopped by another alert from Tosh's computer, this one causing her to gasp.

"What is it?" he demanded, rushing over. "Are we back online with the lenses?"

"No," she whispered, staring at the screen in shock. "I just lost Ianto's tracking signal."

Jack glanced at the screen, saw nothing, and leaned close. "What does that mean, you lost it?"

"It's gone." She typed furiously at the laptop, almost desperately.

"Could they have blocked it, like they did the contact lenses?" asked Jack, dreading the answer.

"No, it's completely different," Tosh replied. She took off her glasses and rubbed her nose. "And if that was the case, we would have lost the tracking signal when we lost the lenses in the lift."

"Then what happened?" Jack asked, and he heard the panic in his voice, the unspoken thought, the unasked question.

"The device is tied to Ianto's body temperature," Tosh said softly. There was still no trace of anything on screen, and Jack felt his head fall to his chest.

"Which means he is either very, very cold," he started.

"Or dead," whispered Tosh.

* * *

Author's Note:

Muhahahaha.

Er, right. Sorry about that. I'm adding an AU tag for non-canon character death. It just wasn't meant to be.

Kidding.

Maybe.

I love author's notes.

Anyway. Still don't know what the hell I'm doing if it wasn't already obvious. Or maybe I'm just trying to make you think that because I really work for the CIA and everything you've just read went down exactly as it does in real life.

Or not.

Well, my one-shot distraction is posted—it's called _Primary Sources_ and I'm chuffed. Please give it a look if you need a good laugh. But now they are beating down my doors with another one so if you see that around, I'm thinking of calling it _Walk a Mile._ Care to guess what it might be about? I'm already giggling to myself. Which is a good thing because let's face it: this one is not a giggle-type of story. But I'm so glad so many of you are reading it and enjoying the mystery of it. I hope it lives up to your expectations! Thank you!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Ianto gave up pacing and finally sat down at the table. He needed to conserve his energy, as his arm was already aching even though Dr. Williamson had given him a good dose of pain medication early that morning. Not knowing how long he would be there, he did not know how long it would be until he could get more, and it was unlikely he could simply ask for it. He knew the pain would wear him down quickly, though, so he took some deep breaths to relax his tense muscles, still thinking on how to get out of whatever mess he had found himself in.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before the door opened and two UNIT soldiers walked in, flanked by someone who appeared to be a doctor. He was the cruelest looking medic Ianto had ever seen, though. He didn't look like he was there to treat Ianto; he was wielding some sort of scanner and a small bag of medical tools with malicious glee, and Ianto was suddenly wary, sensing this man was dangerous in a very different way than Anastasia Morgan.

"Stand still," the man barked with a thick accent. Ianto couldn't place it—European, possibly eastern? Ianto did as he was told, and the man ran the scanner over him, nodding when something beeped as it traveled down his leg. The tracker, then; they'd found it.

"Drop your trousers," the man ordered, and Ianto merely raised an eyebrow even as his heart started racing at the many possible implications of such a statement.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied as evenly as he could.

"Don't flatter yourself," the man replied, motioning to the soldiers to flank Ianto on either side. "Drop them, or I'll have them help you."

Not willing to subject himself to such humiliation willingly when he wasn't sure what might happen as a result, Ianto inclined his head at the soldiers with a raise of his eyebrows. One man stepped forward and very roughly undid his belt and zip, looking disgusted the entire time. For some reason, this made Ianto feel slightly better. The other soldier pulled down his trousers; the cruel looking medic nodded, and without warning Ianto felt himself slammed face down onto the table.

His arms were held roughly by one man, his hips by the other. He tried to struggle, but it was useless; they were strong, and the pain from his shoulder flared as he was pressed into the table. The medic opened his bag and took out some sort of scalpel.

"I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. The only way we know how to remove these sorts of things is to cut them out." He grinned maliciously. "Perhaps someday Torchwood will share some of its secrets with us so we can make it a bit more humane."

Ianto's eyes widened. They weren't just going to deactivate the tracking device like they had done with the contacts; they were going to rip it out of him. It wasn't deep, but it would still hurt. He struggled against the hold on him, but the soldiers held him down tighter, and he groaned at the pressure on his injured shoulder. Closing his eyes, he waited for the cut.

It was quick and hard and deep. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out as the knife sliced into the muscle of his thigh, searching for the tiny tracking device. The doctor—if he even was that, perhaps he was a professional UNIT torturer—did not bother with gentle technique, slashing the skin open deeper to find the device. Ianto felt blood running down his thigh and could imagine the man grinning for some reason.

Finally he felt something pop and heard the tiny metallic tracking device hit the floor. He released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, prompting the medic to pet him on the head; Ianto actually shuddered. "Got it," the medic whispered into his ear, and then there was a crunching sound as the man stepped on it, destroying Ianto's last tie to Jack and Tosh.

The soldiers released him and he stood up, eyes blazing. He took a step toward the doctor, but was immediately held back. The man eyed him speculatively. Very slowly he wiped the blood from Ianto's leg, haphazardly placed a bandage over the hole he'd dug into the skin, and then nodded wordlessly once more.

The soldiers stepped back and drew guns. "Pull them up," the man ordered, and with a glare, Ianto painfully bent down to pull his trousers up, zipping and buckling them with as much dignity as he could. His thigh felt like it was on fire. He glared at the doctor.

"A local anesthetic would have been nice," he growled, and the man grinned.

"But not as much fun," he replied. He stepped forward and gave Ianto a pat on his injured thigh that almost made him stagger. "Besides, I wanted to save it for last."

And without warning his other hand came up with a white cloth that was pressed tightly to Ianto's face. He struggled once more, but it was too late: he felt his eyes rolls back, his muscles turn to jelly, his brain descend into the fog of unconsciousness. His last thought as he fell to the floor was that he was definitely in trouble—and all on his own now.

* * *

Jack had had enough. Tosh had tried her best, but there was no way she could get either the contacts or the tracking device to come back online. They had no way of communicating with Ianto, and after Michael Collins' strange behavior and the sudden appearance of Anastasia Morgan, he was more convinced than ever that something was wrong and Ianto was in trouble. And while Ianto might hate him for bursting in and ruining things if he had it under control, Jack would never forgive himself if Ianto was in danger and they had done nothing.

"I'm going down there," he finally said. Tosh glanced up from her computer and rubbed bleary eyes.

"Where?"

"To UNIT headquarters." She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth. "Don't worry, I won't go blundering in with guns blazing. And they know me, they're not going to hurt me. I can at least try to get some answers."

"Jack, if this bigger than we think, they might not care who you are," she pointed out.

"So we just leave him there, on his own?" Jack demanded. "Without knowing what's going on?"

"That's the problem, we don't know what's going on. You could make it worse." She turned back to her computer. "I've been trying to get into the UNIT security system, but it's pretty sophisticated, and I don't want to tip them off, so it's been slow. If I can find him on the internal cameras, at least we'll have an idea of whether or not he's all right."

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and let his chin fall while he thought. Finally he shook his head. "No. Keep working on it and call me if you find anything. But I need to be there. I can be subtle."

She raised an eyebrow again.

"Really, I can." He turned and found his coat. Dr. Williamson was watching him from the sofa in the living room, and Jack frowned.

"What?" he asked. "You think I should stay?"

"I think you should do what you feel is right," he replied enigmatically.

"What do you think's right?" Jack asked. For some reason, there was something about the doctor that Jack trusted. The man sighed as he stood and came closer to Jack, speaking quietly.

"I think something's gone wrong. You've lost touch with your man, and I haven't heard from Jordan all day. I'm beginning to worry they've both been compromised." He did appear concerned, and again Jack realized that Jordan Ford hadn't contacted them all day.

"How would they get to her?" Jack asked. "You guys are supposed to be good at this stuff—better than us, anyway."

"We usually are," Williamson replied with a tight smile. "But you lot have all sorts of tricks available we don't." He paused and sighed. "I don't know how they would have got to her, but I fear it's a distinct possibility. She should have at least contacted us by now."

Jack turned to Tosh. "Tosh, can you do Nigel a favor? See if you can find anything on Jordan Ford while you keep working on UNIT. We think she might have been compromised, maybe the CCTV will pick up something."

The doctor placed a hand on Jack's arm. "Thank you, Captain." He headed into the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea, Ms. Sato. I appreciate your help."

Jack glanced at the room where Fiona Stewart had gone to lie down again and hoped they would all be safe when he left. He gave Tosh some last minute instructions, headed toward the door, then opened it to leave.

He found the way blocked by two burly UNIT soldiers, guns held securely across their chest.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said, quickly stepping back. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Going somewhere, Captain Harkness?" asked a voice from behind them. The soldiers parted to let a short, stocky officer through. He was dressed in a formal UNIT uniform, short black hair and beard lending him a severe look. His bright blue eyes, however, contained a hint of sympathy and understanding.

"Major," said Jack, noting the man's rank on his shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I was just heading toward the Tower."

"What a coincidence," said the major with a small smile. "I just left there." He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Jack took it. "Major Burnston, second in command of UNIT Security Division. I've been ordered to detain you and your party here."

"Why?" asked Jack, the obvious question flowing from him before he could stop it.

"I was told it was a matter of national security. One of your employees was caught infiltrating UNIT headquarters and conspiring with a known traitor."

Tosh had come to stand beside him, with Dr. Williamson behind them. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Who, your friend?" asked the major. He shook his head. "I really have no idea. Apparently it's need-to-know basis. I've been told under no uncertain terms to let you leave. I'm also to confiscate any electronic equipment you might have in your possession." He shrugged. "We do know who you are and what you can do, Ms. Sato."

Tosh's face blanched, and Jack put an arm around her shoulder in reassurance. "Will we get it back? The equipment. It's Torchwood."

"I imagine so," said Major Burnston as three more soldiers moved in and began going through the small flat and packing up Tosh's computer, as well as collecting all their phones and any other devices they could find as they searched the cabinets and shelves, even couch cushions. They entered the room where Fiona Stewart had been sleeping, but came out empty-handed; Jack wondered if the woman had hid or run.

"Again, I'm not privy to that knowledge," the major was saying. "I imagine your friend must be in a great deal of trouble to have warranted such measures." The soldiers returned to the door, and the commander rolled his eyes as he checked the box. "Personal weapons too, boys. Don't be so green."

The soldiers reluctantly frisked them all, taking their weapons and adding them to the confiscated equipment. The major pulled Jack aside.

"Look, Captain Harkness, I don't know you and I don't know what your man has done or if he's done it under your orders, but I think it's serious. And it's covert. If I were you, I wouldn't go strutting around stirring up more trouble." Jack opened his mouth to protest, but the man stopped him. "Oh, we all know the stories. Take my advice. Wait it out."

"My man, Ianto Jones, did nothing," snapped Jack. "He wasn't infiltrating UNIT, he went to talk to Commander Michael Ian Collins. Do you know him?"

The man nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. He's the one who's been arrested. For theft, murder, and treason."

Jack heard Tosh gasp next to him. "What about Ianto Jones?"

"I don't know, Captain," said Burnston, and again there was the smallest hint of sympathy in his eyes, and Jack thought that maybe, just maybe, Burnston wasn't in on it and could be talked around to helping them. Not yet, but perhaps later.

"What about me?" asked Dr. Williamson. "I am neither Torchwood nor UNIT, I am merely a doctor treating Mr. Jones. He was shot yesterday and I am treating his wound. Were you aware of his injury?"

The major shook his head. "I wasn't, no. But I do know you're MI5, doctor, so you'll be staying until we sort this out. I'm sorry."

"How did you find us?" asked Jack.

"Again, I was not given that information," said the major. "I was ordered to secure this location and prevent any and all occupants from leaving. I hope you understand. I will try to keep you updated when I know more. I see no reason why UNIT and Torchwood cannot cooperate more than we have in the past."

Jack was surprised: for a UNIT official, this man was surprisingly polite and level-headed. He nodded. "Thank you, major. We'd appreciate that."

"In return, I ask that you try not to escape, do not contact the rest of your team, or harm my men in any way."

"Of course not," said Jack smoothly, knowing it was a complete lie. Burnston likely did as well, for he smiled tightly.

"Right. I'll be leaving two men at the door and several more outside. I'll be back later this evening. Thank you for your cooperation." He turned to leave, but then stopped. "And I do hope this is straightened out quickly. I hate secrets just as much as you do."

Jack, Tosh, and Nigel Williamson stared at one another as the men left.

"That was the nicest house arrest I've ever seen," said the doctor ruefully.

"That was damn strange," said Jack. "Especially for UNIT."

"I believe him," said Tosh. "I don't think he's involved. He really doesn't seem to know what's going on. He's just got to keep us here."

"But why?" asked Jack. "What's going on with Collins that we need to be out of the way?"

"Or with Mr. Jones," murmured the doctor.

"Exactly," said Jack. He turned and strode through the living room and back, then kicked at a chair. "So we're stuck here, without any access to the outside world, no way of knowing what's going on or who's involved. Collins has been arrested, Ianto is out of contact, and—"

"—and Jordan Ford is missing," added Nigel. "I think it's possible they got to us through her."

"How?" asked Tosh, but he shook his head.

"I don't know. This is far more complicated than what it appears to be." He suddenly frowned to himself and hurried toward the bedroom. "Fiona?" he called softly. "Are you in there? Are you all right?"

Jack and Tosh hurried over as well, to find Williamson helping Fiona Stewart up from under the bed.

"They didn't check the bed?" asked Jack. "They really must be green."

Fiona was wide-eyed but shook her head. "They did. They just didn't see me."

"What do you mean, they didn't see you?" asked Tosh curiously, and Jack had a sudden strange thought…

Fiona help up a badge, somewhat like the one Ianto had been given at UNIT headquarters. "This. It's supposed to help people look right past me, forget about me or something. As soon as I heard them, I slipped under the bed and hoped it still worked."

Jack reached out for it, nodding to himself. "A perception filter of some sort. That's why you said Collins won't and can't kill you. Because you have this to protect you. He can't see you unless he already knows you're there."

Fiona shook her head, taking it back and looking down. "No, sir. That's not it, not exactly."

Fiona glanced up and met the doctor's eyes. Nigel Williamson seemed to suddenly understand something and nodded as he pulled her into an embrace. "He's the one who gave it to you, whatever it is."

She nodded and sniffed. "He was just trying to protect me. Now he's in trouble." She looked at Jack with a determined look on her face. "We have to help him. And Ianto."

"I agree," said Jack. "But right now we're stuck here, so I'm open to suggestions. Start thinking. We've got to figure a way to get out of here, find our missing people, and stop the real killer from whatever their endgame is." He gave them all a piercing look. "And we need to do it fast, because I think we're nearing it."

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly.

Ianto was aware of movement first, a steady roll and bounce that also awakened a dozen aches and pains. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at nothing but darkness all around him. He listened carefully and could hear various noises that finally began to clue him in to his circumstances: the sound of an engine beneath him, raspy breathing next to him, and faint voices from somewhere in front of him.

He was in a vehicle of some sort then. Judging from the open air quality around him, he was not in the boot, so probably a van. His hands were bound behind him, which, now that he was aware of it, pulled on his shoulder wound and hurt like hell. He tried to shift to get more comfortable, and bumped into a dark shape next to him; it grunted.

Ianto tried to reply, but found his mouth was gagged; his instinct told him it was probably his tie and for some reason, of all the things that had gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours, that made him just as irritated as anything. He had liked that tie, because Lisa had given it to him.

He tried to talk around it and heard the shape next to him—a person, obviously—try to reply with equal mumbles. And then he felt the shape moving, scooting around on the floor of the van until cold fingers were pulling the gag from his mouth.

"Thank you," he gasped, and the person—a woman, from the feel of the hands that had been touching his face—grunted what sounded like a question in reply. Ianto could guess what she wanted: could he get her free somehow?

"We'll have to each flip over if you want me to get yours off," he whispered, his throat dry. _And I'm not looking forward to that, _he added to himself. But he took a deep breath and did his best to roll over without landing on his shoulder; failing, he bit back a moan as he saw stars for a moment, and was glad when the woman wiggled her head to the level of Ianto's hands, so that he didn't have to move anymore. He took deep breaths to ride through the pain, then began groping in the dark for the woman's gag, finally pulling it free to hear a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Jones," said a voice he recognized.

"Jordan Ford?" he asked in surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I have no idea," she whispered back. "They caught me by surprise, heading toward the safe house this morning."

Ianto swore under his breath. "Are you all right?" he asked, even though his first thought had been for Jack and Tosh. Jordan coughed before she answered, her voice rough.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bit bruised up, but mostly just confused. There's someone on the other side of me, but I think she's still unconscious. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," said Ianto. For some reason, he was leery of trusting her; it occurred to him that she could be there as a spy, trying to gather information before they killed him and dumped his body. He would have to be careful with what he revealed. "I went to UNIT this morning and was arrested instead. Next thing I know, I'm tied up in here."

"Was it Collins?" she asked, and again Ianto paused.

"I don't know. I think he was arrested too."

Jordan seemed to think that over. "So maybe he was framed, and we've stumbled onto something a bit too big for us to be tripping over."

There was a grunt from the other side of Ianto, and suddenly he felt the warmth of a fourth body press up against his own. He somehow knew it was Michael Collins, but he was obviously bound and gagged as well. With a deep breath, Ianto flipped once more, almost crying out from the pain in his shoulder, then moved himself to where he could removed the prisoner's gag.

"It wasn't me, I swear," gasped Michael Collins, proving Ianto's instinct correct. "It's them, it's UNIT, it might go even higher—"

He was interrupted as the van suddenly lurched to a stop and they all rolled precariously into one another. Ianto felt a sharp flash of pain as Collins' knee slammed into his thigh right where the tracking device had been removed, and he swore vehemently this time.

"You all right, Jones?" asked Jordan. "Is it your shoulder?"

"They ripped a hole in my leg too," Ianto ground out, and he heard her gasp under her breath. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the van were flung open and a torch shined a bright light in their faces, blinding them.

"Oh look, the birds are chirping," said a new voice. The torch disappeared and Ianto blinked into blackness. As his eyesight returned, he saw several men in black suits with their guns trained on the back of the van. It was dark outside and they were in some sort of commercial area with office blocks all around them. It occurred to Ianto that they could very likely be at—

"Yes, welcome back to Canary Wharf, Ianto Jones," said the voice, soft and silky and still unseen. "It's time for your red card. I'll have no more fouls from you three." There was a pause. "And MI5 can play too, Ms. Ford, for being offsides."

Ianto knew rugby and could guess the double meaning behind the words. Yet he couldn't place the voice. Who had drugged him and three others just to drag them out to Canary Wharf? If they were to be killed there, why? Had they got too close to the truth?

And if so, what truth?

* * *

Author's Note:

I know, I know—it never ends! Sorry I had to do that to Ianto, always knew it was going to happen, poor guy. Is any of this making sense? I have no idea. I'm just here for the ride, and hope you're having as much fun as I am trying to figure it out.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Jack glanced out the front window of the safe house, and sure enough, he noticed at least two cars parked nearby that were likely watching the building, as well as a man standing on the pavement pretending to casually smoke a fag even while remaining ramrod straight with eyes roaming everywhere and the clear sign of a holstered gun at his hip.

So they were definitely guarded, which meant almost no chance for escape. Jack turned in frustration back toward the others. "Any ideas yet?" he asked, even though it had hardly been twenty minutes since they'd been detained. Tosh and Williamson just shook their heads, but Fiona spoke up.

"They didn't see me, which means they didn't see my mobile." She glanced at Tosh, having obviously figured out that the Torchwood woman was the tech genius. "It's an older model, but maybe you could use it somehow?"

Tosh's face lit up, and Jack grinned. "Brilliant," he said, stepping forward. "But I want to call the Hub first. I want to make sure it's just us they're sitting on and not Gwen and Owen as well."

Fiona handed him the mobile with a shy smile, and Jack could have hugged and kissed her if he didn't think she would be even more scared of him. He went back to the kitchen and dialed the Hub, but there was no answer. It was late, so he wasn't quite worried. Yet when he dialed Gwen's mobile, then Owen's, then both their flats and still got no answer, he started to worry. His gut told him something was wrong.

Turning to Tosh, he tossed her the phone. "Here, see what you can do. I'm not getting any answer from Gwen or Owen. First thing I want you to do is check the Hub servers, see if they're out on a call, then run through Cardiff CCTV, police reports, all of it. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Jack, I don't even know if I can access—" she started, and Jack waved her off.

"Do your best. And then start looking for Ianto."

"I couldn't get into UNIT with my laptop, Jack," she protested. "There's no way I'm getting in with a mobile."

"I doubt he's there anymore," said Nigel Williamson, joining them in the kitchen. Jack turned to him with a frown.

"Why?"

"Why else would they keep us here? If he were still at UNIT, they could wave us away, dismiss us, ignore us. He's gone, and they don't want us looking for him."

Jack looked away, because it made a terrible sort of sense. And it was quite possible that whomever was behind everything that had happened in London had also compromised Gwen and Owen in Cardiff to keep them from helping.

Tosh was looking down at the mobile with a look of worry and fear on her face. Jack moved over to her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "He'll be all right, we've just got to find him," he said softly.

"So I should try to get into the London CCTV as well," she said, and Jack nodded.

"Whatever you have to do. Doctor, you seem somewhat experienced at this. Where do you think they might have gone?"

"That depends on the endgame, Captain," said Williamson. He sat down at the kitchen table and folded his hands in front of them. "Jordan Ford was asked to assist Ewan MacDaniel with a case involving the suspicious deaths of the remaining personnel from Torchwood One. She consulted with me on it a bit, though I wasn't directly involved until Mr. Jones was shot yesterday." He paused and took a breath. "The unanswered question has always been why are these people being killed? Revenge? Mercy? Information?" He paused. "Obliteration?"

Jack shook his head. "Wait, what? What do you mean, obliteration?"

"Could someone simply be finishing what happened at Canary Wharf last year?" the doctor asked bluntly. "The complete destruction of Torchwood One? If not the entire Torchwood organization?"

Jack just stared at him. "But why? Those people are innocent victims, they don't deserve to die. And neither does the rest of Torchwood. We protect this planet from more threats than anyone in UNIT could possible know or understand. We protect this planet with our lives—"

"I know that, Captain," said the doctor, holding up a hand. "Though I probably shouldn't. I'm merely putting it out there. Do you have any enemies?"

Jack snorted. "I've got enemies across the entire—" He'd been about to say 'galaxy' but stopped himself just in time. "Yes, I've got a lot of enemies, but this isn't about me."

"Not this time," murmured Tosh from where she was bending over the mobile.

"Hey," said Jack. "I can't help it if I'm popular."

"My point, Captain Harkness, is that to try and find Mr. Jones—and likely, Commander Collins we well—then we need to ascertain the motive of our killer."

"But we still don't know who's doing this, for all that's happened," said Jack, frustrated. "It's the biggest mystery of all. Why?"

Fiona Stewart stepped into the kitchen then, arms wrapped around herself in the sweater that was too large, braid draped loosely over her scarred neck. "It's everything he said," she said softly, sitting down next to the doctor. "Everything he said, but it's not Commander Collins."

"What do you mean, everything?" asked Jack. Dr. Williamson gave him a sharp look, as if to back off, then patted Fiona's hand. Jack was reminded almost painfully of Ianto giving him a similar look when Jack had gone out to find the woman.

"Do you have any idea who is really behind this?" the doctor asked her gently.

Fiona shook her head and sighed. "No, I don't. They were forcing Commander Collins to help, though. He never said, but it was obvious, especially once he gave me the badge and said it would protect me."

"So you don't know who, but you said it's about everything—revenge, mercy, information, obliteration."

Fiona looked down and nodded glumly. "Whoever it is—someone at UNIT—lost everything at Canary Wharf." She gave a bitter laugh, the first Jack had heard from her since they'd met. "We all did, really. But she must have lost her mind because of it. She wants revenge, and she wants to put us all out of our misery, especially because she thinks we all know something that could destroy the world."

"Who?" asked Jack even as Tosh looked up and asked "What?"

Fiona shook her head. "I don't know, he just said 'she' when he mentioned it, the day he gave me the badge. And he said she won't stop until everyone is dead and gone, because she said that's the only way the world will truly be safe again."

"Everyone?" murmured Jack. "Including Torchwood Three?" Fiona shook her head helplessly, so Jack took to pacing the kitchen.

"All right, if the endgame is to take out everything, then I think we need to assume that with the plan revealed, our killer is going to move up her timeline." He paused. "I'd guess they've got Gwen and Owen locked up in Cardiff, while we're stuck here. They've taken Ianto and Collins somewhere to finish them off, which means we need to figure out where and get there in time to stop them."

"It could be anywhere, Jack," said Tosh, straightening up from hunching over the mobile and rolling her shoulders. "I'm in the Hub servers, but I haven't seen anything that would help us with Gwen and Owen. No rift alerts, nothing."

"Get on London CCTV. We need to get to Ianto first," said Jack. He hated making that decision, but as a Canary Wharf survivor, Ianto was at more risk.

"Jack, I don't even know what I'm looking for!" she exclaimed. "It's not like they're going to walk him around bound and blindfolded to I can pick him out of a crowd easier."

"Check Canary Wharf," said the doctor suddenly. "My guess would be that if this woman has both Mr. Jones and Commander Collins, she might appreciate the irony of taking them back to Canary Wharf to finish her game with them."

"She didn't do that with the others," Tosh said, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"Why them?" he asked. "And why there? It seems too obvious."

"Because they're the flaw in the plan now. They've messed it up. They deserve it." The doctor shrugged. "It's just a theory. Maybe she wants to be found, or maybe she's not thinking straight. Mad people don't tend to think in the most logical of ways at times. I'm just speculating here."

Jack nodded slowly. "You're rather good at criminal psychology, doctor."

Nigel Williamson winked. "I've been with MI5 for years, Captain. Not only do I enjoy reading a good mystery, but I've played out quite a few myself."

"It's as good a theory as any," agreed Jack. "Poetic irony and all that. Which means I need to get out of here and get to Canary Wharf."

The doctor raised his eyebrow. "And how do you intend to do that, Captain?"

Jack turned to Fiona. "Can I borrow your badge too?" he asked.

* * *

Ianto was dragged out of the back of the van by forceful hands. It was dark, and he guessed it was quite late at night as the area they were in was rather quiet for London. Michael Collins stood next to him, his face a mass of black and blue bruises; he had obviously taken a good beating for some reason. Jordan Ford was brought out no less gently, and growled at their captors for their rough handling. The fourth person in the back of the van with them was carried out and dumped on the ground, still unconscious.

Anastasia Morgan.

Ianto blinked a few times to clear his head of the confusion he felt so keenly. Anastasia had been the one to arrest him, to throw him into the cell at UNIT headquarters that morning. He had assumed she was the one, only now she was lying unconscious on the ground, her hands behind her back just like the rest of them. Which meant she was either playing a hell of a game, or she wasn't really in on it either. Ianto had already suspected Michael Collins was being used, but Morgan too?

There were seven suits surrounding them, including the man Ianto had shot the previous day when he and Jack had been assaulted. The man looked stiff and in pain, but also grim and determined, and he watched Ianto with an almost feral grin, as if he was glad to see Ianto and couldn't wait to pay him back for ruining the attack yesterday.

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings. Behind him he saw the familiar tall buildings of Canary Wharf; before him he heard the unmistakable sound of the Thames. So he was somewhere on the South Docks, then. Somewhere dark, out of the way, unseen, and next to the river. Perfect place for a body drop.

And to top it off, he still had no idea who was behind it all. He glanced at Michael Collins, his head hanging down, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Looking to his left, Ianto nodded at Jordan Ford, who seemed to be thinking as hard as he was about a way to escape. But with their hands clasped firmly behind them, it would be virtually impossible; his best hope was to talk his way out, only he didn't know who he'd be talking to.

He closed his eyes and thought through it, how to play it out, but it all went to hell when he heard someone step forward, and opened his eyes to see the brilliant green eyes of Katherine Young standing before him, staring thoughtfully into his face.

_'Her?' _his frazzled brain thought as it tried to keep up. It was clear she was in charge: the suits deferred to her when she waved them back. She nodded to Ianto and smiled almost pleasantly, blond hair gone more grey than he remembered from her tenure at Torchwood One, and she was not that much older than him. Then again, it had changed them all, why not her? What he could not comprehend was this mild mannered research scientist running a special ops unit for murder.

"Good evening, Mr. Jones," she said, and her voice was not as oily, cruel, or deranged as he would have expected; in fact, it was exactly as he remembered from the few times he had spoken with her at Torchwood One. They had been in the same department, though she was much higher up than him. "I'm sorry you had to join us tonight. I would have liked to have spared you a bit longer."

"A bit longer?" Ianto replied. Young circled him and to his surprise removed his handcuffs, stopping to whisper in his ear.

"With that shoulder and a bum leg, I'm sure you won't be trying anything funny, right, Mr. Jones?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her blankly as he rubbed at sore wrists. He fingered the cufflinks there and tried to think of a way to use them. If only Tosh had give him exploding cufflinks…

"Who the hell are you and what's going on?" demanded Jordan Ford, struggling against her own bindings. "Let me go!" Katherine shook her head.

"Yours stay on. I heard you were a hard capture, Ms. Ford, so I'm not taking my chances."

"But you will with me?" asked Ianto, not sure whether he should be relieved that he had some opportunity to maneuver or insulted that she didn't seem to think he was a threat.

"You were injured and drugged, Ianto. And you're an archivist, a researcher." She sighed. "I was too, once. So yes, I trust you won't go and do anything stupid and heroic."

_'Then you don't really know me',_ Ianto thought to himself, but did not say it out loud, especially since he still didn't have any ideas of what he could do now that he was free. He merely inclined his head and decided the best way to proceed was to flatter her. He remembered her as vain and confident from Torchwood One, remembered the stories people would tell about her and Yvonne Hartmann, two bitches licking at one bone…

Ah. Motivation.

Katherine Young, Senior Researcher. She had been one of the leads on the Void ship, working closely with Dr. Rajesh Singh to study the sphere that apparently did not exist—the sphere that had brought down hell upon them all, allowing both the Cybermen and the Daleks to come through and destroy Torchwood One. From reading her file earlier, Ianto knew she had been recruited as an engineering genius straight out of Oxford a year early; she had moved up quickly within Torchwood due in part to her brilliant mind and strong personality. Katherine Young at thirty had done more than most people had achieved at fifty.

Including almost getting the world annihilated.

Ianto shook his head. He couldn't blame her, it wasn't her fault. She hadn't brought the ship through, hadn't even found it, she'd merely been working on it with Singh. Some said there was more going on between them, but then Ianto remembered all the gossip (even among 800 personnel, the gossip had been strong and vicious) about Hartmann and Singh and wondered if he hadn't stumbled onto a twisted domestic that had somehow enveloped the remains of Torchwood. He hoped not.

Katherine led him slightly away from the rest of them and offered him a questioning look. "So have you figured it out yet?" she asked, almost as if she was hoping that he had. Once again, he decided to flatter her and try to play the same game he'd been trying with Collins. Taking a deep breath, he began.

"I'm guessing you were using Anastasia to get what you needed from Requisitions, only she filed it under Commander Collins name. When he found out, you forced him to cooperate…" He trailed off, narrowing his eyes as he tried to think of what she could have held over the man. "You threatened Fiona Stewart," he finally replied. "His son's girlfriend. You threatened her life if Collins didn't stay quiet while you carefully and quietly hunted down and killed the last of the remaining Torchwood survivors."

Katherine clapped her hands in front of her. "Oh, very good, Mr. Jones! I had heard you'd turned out to be strong asset at Three, and you've done exceptionally well so far. Torchwood One was obviously not using you to your full potential."

"Obviously," Ianto murmured, thinking of what he did then and what he did now.

"You're right, of course," she said, linking an arm in his. "And you understand why, don't you?"

He gave her a curious look. "Not exactly. You don't seem insane, so I'm not sure what you could possibly hope to accomplish by killing the rest of us."

"That's just it, Ianto," she whispered close to his ear. "I am quite mad. And yet quite sane as well, else how else could I work my way into UNIT and form my own special little team." She gestured at the suits around them. "They're good, too. They would have got to you eventually, I was just waiting to clean up London before moving on to Cardiff." She sighed dramatically. "And now you've gone and ruined it all."

"My apologies," murmured Ianto, and she laughed, the sound just barely sane. He took the plunge. "But if you were watching my meeting with Commander Collins this morning, as I suspect you were, you'll know that I didn't come to UNIT to unmask him. I offered him my services."

She nodded slowly, eyeing him curiously.

"What do you mean by services, exactly?"

"You know what I do at Torchwood Three, right?" Ianto asked, his voice deliberately pitched low. He hoped she didn't say anything about coffee and tea, because frankly he knew he was much more than that and found it annoying when UNIT assumed he was less.

"I know you cover for Harkness far too often," Young replied, her voice equally low. "So I'm guessing you're running it as much as he does, given how much better relations have been between UNIT and Cardiff for the last year, how much more organized everything is."

Ianto bowed his head. "I do. General support, meaning I take care of just about everything. Including all of our missing persons cases, body dumps, and Retcon needs."

Katherine clapped her hands again and laughed. "You're the clean up man then. Brilliant. Are you offering to clean up after me? Because I don't need anyone to clean up after me, you know. Everyone will be dead."

"Including you?" Ianto asked, and she simply smiled enigmatically.

"Perhaps. I'm not going to reveal all my secrets."

Ianto nodded as he thought through the other plan of action he'd offered to Collins, however subtly. "Then I can help," he said simply. "Make it cleaner, neater, easier."

This time she just raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What makes you think I need help?"

"You're about to kill the two people you've used to accomplish your goals," Ianto pointed out. "How will you get into Requisitions now? And I'm assuming Commander Collins authorized your special ops team. Will they remain loyal to you once you've killed him?"

And that must have been where he slipped up, because she ran a nail down his cheek, a bit too roughly, and he couldn't help but turn his cheek away. "Oh, Mr. Jones. You think you're so clever, but you missed the mark on that one. Yes, losing Morgan might make it hard to get what I need, but Collins didn't give me those men. I bought them."

Without batting an eye, Ianto offered his appreciation. "Impressive. It must have cost a lot of money then. I can do money—find it, move it, cover it up."

"I'm doing just fine on my own, Jones!" she snapped, her eyes wild enough for just a moment that Ianto thought that perhaps she hadn't been joking when she had told him she was insane.

"MI5 is involved," Ianto replied. "They won't give up on one of their agents. They'll trace the money back to you eventually. I can stop that."

She was breathing heavily, as if seriously considering his offer. Somehow, Ianto knew it was the only way he'd get out of this alive, if she believed him. Otherwise he'd end up at the bottom of the Thames, and Torchwood would seek to exist all due to the whims of a madwoman.

He couldn't let that happen.

He stepped closer to her, leaned in, let his breath ghost against her ear. "I lost my girlfriend at Canary Wharf. She was converted. I blame Hartmann and I know you do too."

Blue eyes flickered to his with a subtle intake of breath. "She did it," Katherine whispered. "She brought them here, with her stupid ghost shifts and that stupid sphere. So many died, all because of her."

"There were times I wanted to die," Ianto replied just as softly. "Times I still wish I could forget it all, end it all."

"Me too," she said, stepping closer to him still, as if mesmerized by his speech. It was too easy, really: he was seducing her with lies. "So much pain. They all deserve to die, to leave it behind. They're better off."

"I'll help you," he whispered, and she finally nodded.

"I think you could," she agreed, then shook herself as if coming out of a spell. "Do you have any loyalty to Cardiff? To Jack Harkness?"

Ianto tried very hard to keep his face straight when he answered. "No. They ignore me, because they never understood Canary Wharf, they weren't there. I do it because I'm good at it and it pays well, not because I believe in it." God, it ripped his heart out to lie like that; he hoped he was convincing enough to win her trust.

"You could be good here, at UNIT," she said, and she turned him around to join the others. "With Torchwood destroyed, only UNIT would stand between us."

"Between us and what?" asked Ianto, his blood running cold at the tone of her voice.

She gave him a grim smile. "The end of life as we know it." She ran her hand along his cheek, cupped it for a kiss that he had no choice but to accept. "Welcome to the real Doomsday, Ianto Jones. Because once Torchwood is gone, we'll destroy UNIT, and then nothing will stand between us and the rest of the universe. The earth will cease to exist. No more pain."

* * *

Author's Note:

That took me a while to work out, but I think it's starting to come together. The story just kind of went directions I wasn't fully prepared to follow. Wayward child and all that. But hopefully we're almost there. Long chapter fics are hard for me, I want to move on, and so does Ianto. Thanks so much for reading, and thank you to Cerih and darcy58 for the help and encouragement!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_The end of life as we know it._

_No more pain._

Katherine Young was clearly insane, and Ianto had offered his allegiance to a madwoman whose goal was more than the murder of the Canary Wharf survivors, more than the end of Torchwood; it was the complete destruction of world. No more pain.

Because if the earth ceased to exist, so would her pain.

The magnitude of it shocked him. For a moment he felt suspended in time, his heart racing as his brain tried to stamp out the primal instinct in his gut that said _Run! Run as fast as you can!_ But he had to stop her, and he couldn't stop her if he ran. He needed to know more.

At this point, Ianto didn't care why, he just needed to know _how_. Once she had eliminated Torchwood (and he had little doubt she could, with her hired team of hitmen in suits), how would she topple UNIT? And how would that ensure the destruction of the entire planet, since that was apparently her ultimate goal?

Taking a step back, Ianto took a calculated risk and let her see his doubt and confusion. She smiled condescendingly at him, like he was a child who couldn't possibly understand her grand plan—just like he hoped she would.

"What's wrong, Ianto? I thought you wanted it too—no more pain." She spoke softly, almost seductively, and Ianto fought against it; he had to remain in control, because this was his game, and he was playing for the planet now, not just the remaining survivors of Canary Wharf.

"I didn't think you meant…everyone," he offered, his voice equally as soft; he even let it crack at the end. "I had assumed you only meant us." By _us_ he clearly meant the survivors, and she nodded in understanding.

"But the entire world is in pain, Ianto. Whether it's a natural disaster or another terrorist nightmare, the earth _suffers._ And when the next Canary Wharf happens, she'll just suffer more. We all will. We'll relive it, all over again."

She was scared. She was scared of it happening again and had given up hope. Ianto took a deep breath and went with it, knowing that his best chance was still to remain on her side.

"And Torchwood can't protect us, because they failed before." She nodded, her eyes brightening as he played at understanding. Yet he still needed more. "But why UNIT? Why not let them—" He didn't finish, because she snapped and cut him off.

"Because they will fail too, and they know it! Do you think they could have stopped the Cybermen, the Daleks?" She turned in a sudden fury and stepped away, stopping to stare at a nearby tree before whirling back toward him with an intense light in her eyes, as if she were pleading with him to believe. "You were there, you saw it. We were saved by an alien, by a man who travels through space and time in a big blue box, a man we can't count on to be there next time because how many times has he already let us down?"

Ianto nodded slowly to diffuse her unexpected anger. "So we strip ourselves of all defenses and just let it happen? Let the next Canary Wharf destroy us?"

"Oh, there won't be another Canary Wharf," she said softly. "We'll make sure of it, you and me."

"How?" asked Ianto bluntly, hoping he wasn't pushing her too hard, but taking the chance that blind allegiance wouldn't win her over either.

"Top secret UNIT project. I've been consulting on it for months, fine tuning it since Canary Wharf." She smiled grimly at him. "And I'd love to tell you about it, only I think you've been playing me, haven't you, Ianto Jones?" She took a deep breath and raised her voice. "Or should I say, isn't that right, Captain Harkness?"

Ianto frowned as Katherine turned and shouted into the darkness. "I know you're there, Harkness! Your perception filter doesn't work on me, so you might as well come out where we can all see you!"

And from behind the tree Ianto finally glimpsed the flap of Jack's greatcoat, and then Jack himself as he stepped out, hands raised. Ianto heard Jordan Ford inhale sharply behind him, and Ianto swore to himself, because as glad as he was to see Jack, he also knew things could sometimes end badly when Jack came blustering in without thinking, and it didn't look like he had any back up. Nor did he know anything about Ianto's improvised plan.

"So what's the project?" asked Jack casually, taking another step forward. Katherine pulled out a gun Ianto hadn't even noticed before and aimed it at Jack; the suits followed her lead, and he stopped, hands moving higher with eight weapons trained on him. "Maybe I know it."

"I doubt it," she said. "And I'm not telling you just so you can go swanning in to stop it. It will happen. I will destroy you, Torchwood, UNIT, and anything else standing in my way."

Ianto considered trying to wrestle the gun from her, but knew he'd be shot dead by seven other gunmen before he'd even taken three steps toward her. He needed to keep playing the game then, and he only hoped Jack played along…and forgave him.

"Shoot him," he said, and Jack's eyes went wide. Katherine turned and glanced at him in surprise.

"He's not here for you?" she asked uncertainly.

Ianto shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm not going back to Cardiff. I offered my services to Collins and I've offered them to you. I see a job through to the end, no matter the cost and sacrifice."

Jack was staring at him in disbelief, and Ianto wasn't sure if he was acting or not; it killed him inside to think that Jack was angry at him, but this was how it had to play out.

Katherine narrowed her eyes at him. He was vaguely aware of Commander Collins finally paying attention nearby, of Jordan Ford watching with a look of disgust on her face, as if she truly believed he had switched sides. He must be good to fool a trained MI5 agent.

"I don't believe you anymore," Katherine finally said. "I tried to have you killed, you have no reason to join me. You're just trying to escape. Or you'll try to stop me."

Ianto stepped forward so that they were closer, making sure he didn't appear threatening since she was still the one with the gun. "I won't. I will admit that you surprised me. My first thought was for my family. And I didn't like getting shot. But you're right. It's only a matter of time."

"Until what?" she asked suspiciously.

"The end of the world," Ianto replied simply. "Until everyone dies, even my family. I've seen so many things in Cardiff, things the Rift spits out and swallows and rips apart. We've stopped the end of the world so many times—alien plagues, beasts from the Void—but what's the point? One day we won't be able to stop it, and then the pain returns."

Her face was a study in confusion: he knew, somehow, that she wanted to believe him because she didn't want to be on her own. And yet he hadn't convinced her, not with his words alone. He chanced a step nearer.

"Shoot him," he whispered in her ear, turning her around so she was facing Jack again. God, he hoped Jack would forgive him…

Jack stepped forward, earning himself a warning from the nearest gunman. "Traitor," he snarled, and Ianto plastered a fake smile on his face, once more silently asking for forgiveness.

"Like you care," he said, his voice low.

"Not anymore," Jack threw back, his lip curled in that same way Ianto remembered from the night they'd found Lisa. Oh god, did Jack really believe Ianto had turned, had betrayed him again? He felt a rush of dizziness and panic that must have shown on his face, because Jack shook his head and repeated himself, and Ianto somehow knew it was all right. "Not anymore."

Katherine was glancing back and forth between them. She turned toward Ianto and must have seen something that convinced her, because she smiled and reached out to touch his cheek before motioning at one of the men in suits, the one Ianto had shot the day before.

"Shoot him," she said. "And this time get it right." The man nodded and turned toward Jack, face blank as he sighted his target and his finger came back to pull the trigger…

Jack's reflexes had always been good. Sometimes Ianto was truly amazed at how quick and how accurate Jack was with a gun, even an old Webley, but then he had been using it for decades, so some skill was bound to develop. Before the man in the suit had even finished nodding, Jack had pulled out a handgun from behind him and shot the man in the leg. He took out two more suits before a single bullet blew through his head, and he fell to the ground in a sight all too familiar to Ianto, dead.

It had taken less than fifteen seconds; there hadn't even been time to go for Katherine's gun.

Ianto had to fight with every fiber of his being not to run to Jack. There were still four guns trained on him and the other three prisoners. Collins and Ford had both ducked down when the shooting started, but Ford now stood and glared at Katherine and Ianto. "He's dead," she breathed, and somehow Ianto knew she was looking to him for confirmation that it wasn't, in fact, true. When Katherine turned to silence her, he gave Ford the tiniest shake of his head, and she closed her eyes.

"Be quiet!" Katherine snapped. She pointed at one of the suits. "This is over. If Harkness escaped, he probably called for backup. They'll be here any minute and it ends now." She waved her own gun at three of the men. "Finish it. Throw them all in the river." Pointing at the fourth man still standing, she motioned toward the van. "Get Jackson into the back. As soon as they're done cleaning up, we're leaving." Finally she turned to Ianto and flashed an almost manic grin. "Including you, Mr. Jones. I'm not sure what to do with you yet, but you're coming with us. I may kill you very slowly later on if you're lying to me."

Ianto simply inclined his head, at a loss to respond. Half an idea was starting to coalesce in his tired, shocked brain, and he idly fingered the cufflinks at his wrists, not daring to believe he could think it, yet alone even do it.

"Hands in front, where I can see them," she said. "Now walk." Raising the gun to his back, Katherine Young prodded him toward the van. He moved slowly, palming one of the cufflinks as he walked.

"In the front, with me," she snapped. "You're driving." Her hand was shaking, and Ianto knew she was either very angry or very frightened; either way, she could snap at any moment, and he would be dead. He climbed in the front seat and slipped the cufflink into his mouth under the pretense of a cough, tucking it into his cheek.

Through the side view mirror, Ianto saw the other man climb into the back, dragging his injured comrade with him; Jack had apparently killed the other two and they would be left behind. The last three suits were standing behind Collins, Ford, and Anastasia Harmon, who still hadn't regained consciousness. Jack had not revived and would not be saving them.

"I'm sorry," said Katherine as she took the passenger seat next to him, and she looked at him with bright eyes that did, indeed, appear regretful. He took a breath and reached out for her free hand, squeezing it gently. Her mouth opened in surprise.

"I know," he said, turning toward her. "Me too." He swallowed hard so that his mouth was dry, popped open the cufflink with his tongue, and leaned toward her. She moved closer as well, drawn to him, he knew, in the desperate hope that maybe he really did believe in her. As he raised his hand to her face and brought his head down to kiss her, she closed her eyes, and he cursed himself for what he was about to do.

They kissed, and with one strong thrust of his tongue, Ianto slipped the open cufflink into her mouth, forcing it in deep. He watched as her eyes widened, and she tried to pull away, but he moved his hand behind her head and held her there. When she started to lift her gun, he slapped it down, hoping it didn't go off and shoot him. She shook her head in panic, and he finally let up on the kiss, covering her mouth until she swallowed. He reached for the gun as he let go of her, spitting out as much of their shared saliva as he could, and she fell back, gasping with terror in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I can't let you do this." And he was sorry, he truly was. He wanted to stay with her, to help her through it, but there was the violent crack of a gunshot outside, and he threw open the door and moved quickly to the back of the van, gun ready.

Commander Collins was sprawled on the pavement, dead, and Jordan Ford was next.

As if in a dream, Ianto very calmly shot the man standing behind her. The first man turned, and Ianto caught him with two bullets before putting down the third. And just like that, it was over.

Ianto dropped the gun and fell to his knees. He was tempted to laugh, but his breathing was becoming labored. There was a strange buzzing in his ears, which was probably why he didn't hear the back of the van open. He knew the last suit was likely stepping out to kill him, but his limbs were too heavy to reach for the gun again. He wanted to save Jordan, save Anastasia, but he couldn't find the ability to move his limbs, yet alone the energy. At least he had stopped Katherine Young and saved the planet yet again, and with that thought, Ianto managed a short, dry laugh as he braced for the killing shot.

He toppled over when it came, but strangely enough, he didn't feel anything like he had felt back at the hotel. And then there was a second shot, but he didn't feel that one either. He wondered if he'd actually been shot, or if maybe the last suit had taken out Ford and Harmon first. Which didn't really make sense since they were still bound, and he could, potentially, still be a threat…if only he could think straight and actually pick up the damn gun to stop the man and defend himself before he was next…

It was too hard. His vision was fading to black as his body refused to work for him, and he gave in to it, too exhausted and weak to fight it any longer. Someone grabbed him, picked him up, and held him, murmuring words he couldn't really hear yet alone understand. It felt familiar somehow, and he hoped it was Jack, even if he had only revived just in time to watch Ianto die.

At least they were together, and the nightmare of the last two days was over at last.

* * *

Author's Note

I can't believe I wrote that.

Seriously, my heart is pounding as I post this. I have no idea what the reaction will be. Did it surprise you? Did you anticipate something similar? Did you like Ianto's badass moment, darcy 58? Thanks again to Cerih for helping me with this a bit by letting me bounce my crazy idea off her. Death by poison cufflinks may be one of the strangest things I've ever written. Death being a flexible term in fiction, of course. ;) I hope Ian Fleming would be proud.

Also, any thoughts on Katherine's secret consulting project? It's canon. :)

Thank you again for all the amazing reviews! Just need to wrap up the details now.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

With a shuddering gasp, Ianto Jones drew in a life-affirming breath he knew rivaled some of Jack's more dramatic revivals. Yet he couldn't help it: some how, some way, he was _alive._ He'd been shot, stabbed, and poisoned, and yet he was still there, still breathing, still feeling. After a few more breaths to prepare himself for whatever he might encounter, Ianto slowly opened his eyes.

He immediately smiled and relaxed when he saw Jack's concerned face hovering over him. Jack in turn offered a crooked grin, his eyes crinkling in relief as a hand gently swept across Ianto's brow and cupped his cheek.

Ianto tried to speak, but started coughing instead, until a plastic mask was placed over his mouth, the clean crisp oxygen settling his suddenly cramped airways. He felt the cool hand of Dr. Williamson taking his pulse.

After a few moments, the doctor removed the mask and Ianto found he could breathe much better. "That's better," said Williamson. "Have some water. Sip slowly."

Jack held a cup with a straw to his mouth; Ianto wracked his brain for some sort of smart remark, thinking this was probably something Jack had rarely done before, but came up blank. Instead, after swallowing carefully to soothe his parched throat, he simply asked, "What happened?"

Dr. Williamson took the glass from Jack and offered a rueful smile. "Quite a lot, actually. And it's a heck of a story. I'll let Captain Harkness fill you in, though. I want to check on Ms. Morgan again now that you're awake."

The doctor wandered away, which was when Ianto finally noticed he was strapped to a gurney at the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around him from the waist down. It was still dark, though the area was well lit by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. There were dozens of people milling about, including Tosh, who hurried over, bent down, and threw her arms around his waist, squeezing gently.

"You're all right," she whispered into his shoulder. "Thank god. We didn't know what to think, we didn't know what had happened at first, how much you had ingested…" She trailed off as Jack placed a hand on her shoulder and stood back a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. You must be tired."

"And confused. Jack, what happened? All I remember is collapsing, I didn't even know whether I'd been shot or not…was I shot?" He glanced down at his body but couldn't really see much from a prone position under the blanket. "Please tell me I wasn't shot again."

Jack shook his head with a soft laugh. "No, you weren't shot. That was probably me shooting the rest of the suits."

Ianto struggled to sit up; he hated lying down and wanted to be able to see better if he was going to hear the rest of the story he knew was there. Jack pushed him down and propped the gurney up from the back instead. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes, much," said Ianto. He ran his hands over his face and nodded. "Right. Tell me what's going on. What do you mean, it was you? I thought you died." He paused. "Again."

"I did," Jack shrugged. "But I have a bad habit of ignoring it. As soon as you took down the three suits in the back of the van, you collapsed. I came to just in time to see you fall, although I had no idea why. I saw the back of the van open and quickly shot the two men in there before they could get to you."

"Thanks," Ianto murmured, vaguely remembering those gunshots and glad he hadn't, in fact, been shot.

"No, thank you," said Jack, taking his hand and squeezing. "Do you have any idea what you did tonight? What you stopped?"

Ianto glanced around the park once more: he saw UNIT personnel everywhere, as well as Jordan Ford and Nigel Williamson talking to a man he vaguely recognized as John Frobisher as well as someone who was likely their MI5 superior. There were cars and ambulances, and worst of all, bodies laid out under sheets.

"I think so," he finally replied softly, looking down at his hands. His fingers brushed over his other cufflink, and he took it off, staring at it as it all came back to him: the abduction, the seduction, the insane plan to destroy the world, ruined instead by a single kiss. "I wish I hadn't had to do it, though."

"You did what you had to do," Jack said softly, taking the cufflink from Ianto and placing it in a pocket somewhere, as if to hide the grim reminder. "You saved the world, Ianto."

"I killed a woman," Ianto replied, his voice filled with sadness and regret now. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "Someone who survived the horror of Canary Wharf. She was completely insane, Jack, but she didn't deserve to die like that."

"She would have killed you all," Jack said. "And us. And then the rest of the world, if this secret project at UNIT is any sort of reality."

"Oh, I imagine it is, knowing them," Ianto replied wearily, opening his eyes and meeting Jack's gaze. "And yes, we stopped it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Jack leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "Of course you don't. I'd be more worried if you did."

"Well, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you and Tosh," Ianto murmured. He took Tosh's hand and held it for a while. "Thank you for all your secret weapons."

"I'm just sorry you actually had to use them, especially the cufflinks," she said. "I was hoping the credit card would be more useful."

"Can I keep it then?" Ianto asked, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips in spite of his guilt and exhaustion.

"Of course you can keep it," she laughed. "For the next time you try to play James Bond."

"James Bond," Ianto repeated absently. "Did he ever kill anyone with a pair of poisoned cufflinks?" he asked.

Jack exchanged a look with Tosh. "I don't know, Ianto. But you did what you had to do."

"You said that already," Ianto tossed back. "Tell me something I don't know, like how the hell you showed up just in the nick of time, as usual."

"Actually, there's not much to tell," said Jack. He stepped back and grinned. "Young apparently forged an order to have us put under house arrest, but Fiona had a perception filter that Collins had given her, so I was able to escape. Dr. Wiliamson is apparently a brilliant criminal psychologist as well as a fine doctor, and he thought Canary Wharf would be the most logical place for them to bring you. So I nicked a gun from a late night pawn shop, took a cab, and was here for the big confession."

"You do know how to make an entrance," Ianto murmured. "Glad you revived in time to save my arse, though."

Once more Jack leaned forward to kiss Ianto, this time on the lips. "You were doing fine on your own. You were brilliant—with Young, with the suits, all of it."

Ianto frowned as he thought about something. "You know I didn't mean anything, right? All the things I said to Katherine about joining her, about Torchwood…about shooting you?"

Jack laughed lightly. "Of course I knew. Did I play along so well you were worried?"

"Yep," said Ianto, nodding slowly. "I was. It was not a pleasant charade to play."

"I know." Jack turned serious. "But you were amazing, you really were."

Ianto looked away, oddly embarrassed, and they were silent for a moment as activity continued to bustle around them.

"Where did all these people come from?" Ianto asked curiously.

"Dr. Williamson suggested I just walk into UNIT headquarters and tell them everything, but I knew I needed to get here first. So when Major Burnston, who put us under arrest—" he pointed out a short, dark-haired man barking orders—"came by to check on us, Tosh told him where I'd gone and why. They arrived about ten minutes later, troops in tow."

Ianto frowned. "How did you get him to believe you?" he asked Tosh, who shrugged.

"I was honest. It seemed clear from the start that he wasn't in on it. He seemed like a decent man, and between me and Nigel, we managed to convince him to at least take a look. When we arrived here you and Jack were the only ones left standing." She grinned. "Proverbially speaking, of course. You didn't look so good on the ground."

"I didn't feel so good," Ianto replied dryly. "And not to sound ungrateful, but how come I'm still alive and not on the ground, under a sheet?"

"Because you had a very good doctor on call," said Jordan Ford, coming to join their small group with Dr. Williamson by her side.

"I must have swallowed a lot of the poison, though," Ianto pointed out, sitting up a bit straighter.

"No, not really," said the doctor, a proud smile playing at his lips. "I'm guessing you kept as much from entering your own mouth as possible and spit out everything you could when you were finished?"

Ianto nodded slowly as he thought about those moments in the van; it was not something he wished to ever experience again. "Yes, I did. I didn't think it would make much difference, but I had to try."

"And that is why you would make an excellent MI5 agent, Mr. Jones," the doctor whispered conspiratorially, with a wink.

Jack rolled his eyes at the doctor. "He's Torchwood and he's staying that way."

"So he's already said," the doctor murmured, a twinkle in his eye. "Anyway, I was able to stabilize you with a generic anti-toxin. You'll need some more treatment at the hospital. You may not feel well for a few days, but then again, you've had quite the adventure here in London, so some time to rest will do you well."

"And give you lots of time to write it all up," Jack added cheerfully. Ianto groaned and fell back against the gurney again, even though the thought of the paperwork didn't bother him too much. It would almost be a relief to just sit and write after what he'd been through in the last thirty-six hours.

"Speaking of reports, did you talk to UNIT? What was Katherine referring to with that secret project to destroy the world?"

Jack's face clouded over as he shot a glance toward John Frobisher again. Their Homeland office contact was now speaking with General Brightman, one of the top officials at UNIT, and Ianto could guess from the men's body language and the disgruntled look on Jack's face that they would probably never know what Katherine had been referring to.

"You asked but he didn't tell?" Ianto offered, and Jack nodded, obviously frustrated.

"It's beyond top secret—it doesn't even exist, I'm told. I'm surprised Katherine Young managed to find out about it."

"She said she was consulting on it, after Canary Wharf," said Ianto. "So I'd guess that something about her experience at Canary Wharf made her qualified to know."

"I'm qualified to know," Jack replied, sounding rather petulant. It made Ianto smile, perversely enough. He shouldn't, as they were talking about something that had the potential to destroy the planet, but the fact that Jack Harkness was pissed off about being left in the dark nevertheless amused him. Or maybe he was just too tired to think straight.

This time he reached out and squeezed Jack's hand. "We'll figure it out," he said. "You can bully just about anyone into telling you anything."

"I am not a bully—" Jack started, and when Ianto raised an eyebrow to stop him, everyone laughed until Jack finally joined in.

"All right, last question," said Ianto. "What about Gwen and Owen? Did anything happen in Cardiff?"

Jack sighed. "Yeah, it did, but they're fine. They were detained as well. They had no idea why, so they were practically going spare by the time I talked to them a while ago. They wanted to come out and see you, but I told them to stay there. No reason to crowd London with the lot of us."

"London couldn't handle us," Ianto murmured absently, and was rewarded when Jack's eyes went wide as he grinned.

"That's exactly what I said!" Jack exclaimed. "See, brilliant minds think a like."

"And so do you two, apparently," murmured Tosh, then clasped a hand over her mouth as she realized what she had said. Ianto rolled his eyes affectionately while Jack laughed. "Sorry," she murmured. "It just slipped out."

"It's not a bad thing," Jack said, trying to sound defensive but failing.

"For you, maybe," Tosh tossed back.

"Touché," murmured Ianto, but he was smiling, enjoying the return to normal banter, instead of all the running and hiding, talking and planning they'd done for the last thirty-six hours.

"What about—" he started when they had stopped, but Jack interrupted him.

"You said that was your last question."

"Oh Jack, let the man talk," said Dr. Williamson. "He needs the whole story to be able to understand and process it."

"Right, what he said," Ianto agreed, offering Dr. Williamson a smile. "Although, you two can probably tell me more. Jordan, are you all right?"

Jordan Ford nodded. "I'm fine, thank you. They got the drop on me when I was on my way to meet you this morning, though, so mostly it's just a matter of pride." She shrugged, but Ianto could tell she was not happy about it.

"And Anastasia Morgan? She was the one who arrested us at UNIT."

This time the doctor answered. "I just checked on her. She had a very bad reaction to the same drug used to knock you out, which was why she's been unconscious for so long. They'll be keeping an eye on her in the hospital for a few days."

Ianto frowned, trying to place his finger on one of many things that still didn't make sense. "So was she really in on it or not? Or was she another pawn, like Commander Collins?"

"We're not sure yet," said Jack. "She's not up to talking, but both Burnston and Brightman seem to think she was being manipulated by Katherine Young somehow."

"Collins was blackmailed," Ianto pointed out. "Morgan was requisitioning tech under his name, and when he found out, Katherine threatened to kill Fiona."

"So it's possible she was doing something similar to Anastasia Morgan, forcing her to cooperate. We'll find out once she's able to tell us." He paused. "If she tells us."

"Will she be charged?" asked Ianto, and this time Jack shook his head.

"I don't know. Most likely. She did forge those requisition requests to come from Commander Collins, even if she didn't know what she was actually involved with."

Ianto sighed. "I wonder why she did it. I wonder how much she really knew, if she would have agreed." He paused and glanced around at them all. "And Commander Collins? I take it he didn't make it?"

Dr. Williamson shook his head. "He was dead by the time I arrived. You did what you could to save him, Ianto. You did your best."

"I was too late," said Ianto, knowing he would regret it every day of his life. "What about Fiona? Does she know?"

The doctor glanced behind him at one of the cars. Ianto squinted and noticed Fiona sitting in the front seat, talking on her mobile phone. He gave the doctor a questioning glance.

"She does. And she's actually doing better than you would expect, because it's over now. You stopped it. She's got in touch with her family for the first time in months." The doctor touched Ianto's good shoulder. "You saved her. You really did do a fine job, Mr. Jones."

"I'm going to get a big head if you all keep telling me that," Ianto murmured, though he did half smile about it. In spite of the death and destruction around him, he latched on to the fact that he _had_ saved people—Fiona, Anastasia, the other Torchwood survivors. He wasn't sure about saving the world, but maybe he had done that too, if anything Katherine Young had said was true. It had been difficult, playing the dangerous game of spy and having to actually kiss someone to death in order to stop them, but like Jack said, he'd stepped up and done what had to be done. Guilt warred with relief now, and a strong desire to just get out of there and go home, back to Cardiff.

"Okay, last question this time: when can we leave?"

Jack laughed. "As soon as you want."

"I meant, back home to Cardiff."

"They need us for a few days, Ianto. To understand what was going on and wrap things up, make sure it's over."

"And you need the hospital for a day," said Dr. Williamson, nodding sagely. "I suspect it's the only way you'll get any decent rest."

"I'm fine—" started Ianto, even though he did feel weak and exhausted and overwhelmed; he suddenly found the idea of staying in bed for several days quite appealing. Of course, he'd prefer his own bed and prefer to have company, but he could manage an overnight at the hospital, just to make sure the poison was out of his system. He did not want to go through that ever again.

"You'll go, and that's an order," said Jack. He smiled to soften his words. "And I'll stay with you, just to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" asked Ianto, raising an eyebrow.

"That you rest," said Jack, but there was a twinkle in his eye and the slightest twist to his lips.

"Right," Ianto murmured perfectly in time with Tosh, and once again they all laughed.

They were interrupted by Major Burnston and General Brightman, a tall, imposing looking man whose jacket was covered in fancy medals. Ianto knew he and Jack did not get a long in the slightest—Jack didn't get along with most of UNIT, however, so that was no surprise—but Brightman virtually ignored Jack, instead choosing to address only Ianto. He tried to sit up and appear more put together than he felt, but the general offered a tight smile.

"At ease, Mr. Jones," he said, though Ianto barely relaxed. "I just wanted to come by and thank you. You stopped a very deadly plot, and I'm sorry that UNIT was involved in any way in harming you or the other survivors of Canary Wharf."

Jack's eyes were wide as saucers, but he did not say anything, and it was all Ianto could do to not laugh at the look on Jack's face. Instead he nodded gravely to the general. "You're welcome, General. I'm glad I could help."

"I wouldn't say you helped," said the General. "I'd say you single handedly stopped one of the biggest conspiracies our organization has seen."

"I had help, sir," said Ianto, nodding at the others around him. "And I'm just sorry I couldn't do more before it was too late for the others."

The general studied him for a moment before holding out his hand. Ianto took it in a firm grip. "You're a good, humble man, Mr. Jones. Try passing that on to your leader sometime."

Jack snorted but remained silent.

"I'll try," Ianto murmured, and now he was really trying not to grin.

"If you'd ever like to transfer over, we'd be glad to have you. You've got guts, you've got experience, and I still remember that cup of coffee you made at our last meeting."

Ianto actually bit his lip; apparently he had his pick of jobs at the moment. Jack looked furious.

"Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

"Plus we don't have Weevils," the general added with a very uncharacteristic wink. "Or Jack Harkness."

Ianto raised his eyebrows. "Your loss, then, sir. Neither is all that difficult to deal with, once you get used to them."

"Right. I'll believe that when I see it." The general turned toward Jack, half a grin on his face. "I don't know how you keep the good ones, Harkness. Just don't screw them up too bad."

"I try my best," Jack said, and Ianto knew he was answering in exactly the opposite way than the general intended. Apparently the general did as well.

"I'm sure you do," he murmured. "We need all of you to come to UNIT tomorrow to debrief at 1300 hours. We will expect you then. Burnston, they can go while you finish up." He inclined his head at Ianto. "Mr. Jones." And then barely looked at Jack. "Harkness." With a sharp click of his boots, he turned to leave. Jack pulled a face behind the general's retreating back.

Jordan Ford watched him with an amused look on her face. "I take it you don't get along?" she asked.

"Do you get along with MI6?" Jack tossed back.

"Point taken," she murmured.

Major Burnston stepped forward then and offered his hand to Ianto, who took it in confusion. "I'm Major Burnston. Your friends managed to convince me to come out and consider rescuing you. I'm glad I did."

"So am I," said Ianto. "Thank you."

"No, once again, thank you." The major turned to Jack. "And Captain Harkness," he said, holding out his hand. "Thank you. For taking the risk and trusting that at least one of us doesn't hate Torchwood."

"Just one?" asked Jack with a grin. The major rolled his eyes.

"It's a start, at least." He stepped closer. "Seriously, let me know if you ever need anything. I meant what I said. UNIT and Torchwood should not be at odds with one another, and I'll do whatever I can to make relations smoother."

This time Jack gave the man a genuine smile, not the smile he used when trying to charm someone. "Thank you, major. I will definitely take you up on that offer if I ever need to. It would be a welcome change to not dread UNIT meetings here in London."

The major laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they'll still be ghastly, but we can try. I appreciate the opportunity to help." With a slight bow, he left them, and all five of them just stared at the enigmatic UNIT officer as he returned to directing others in the field.

"He can't possibly be for real," said Ianto, shaking his head. "Else he'd never get into UNIT."

"There is definitely something different about him," said Jack, shaking his head. "I'm not entirely sure we can trust him, but we can give it a try, at least."

"All right," said the doctor, "enough talking. I think we've said all that needs to be said. Mr. Jones should get to the hospital, rest for your meeting tomorrow, and perhaps the day after we can meet for our own debriefing over brunch?"

Jack shook the doctor's hand. "That sounds perfect. My treat for all your help. You've been invaluable, doctor. You should think about retiring to Cardiff."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "So I could learn more about these Weevil things, perhaps? I don't think so. Just as Mr. Jones prefers Wales, so I prefer England. But I do hope we'll meet again in the future."

He patted Ianto on the shoulder. "I'll check in on you at the hospital, Ianto. Have a safe ride."

"Thank you, doctor," said Ianto. "For everything." He turned to Jordan Ford. "And you too, Jordan. Thank you."

She nodded wordlessly and stepped back. The doctor motioned toward the local medics, who came over to load Ianto into the ambulance. Jack climbed in with him, and Ianto was glad; he did not particularly want to be alone. Tosh, however, stood outside at a bit of a loss.

"Jack, what do you want me to do now?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Get our stuff back from UNIT, then book us rooms at the Corinthia. We'll be here a few days and need somewhere to stay. Then get some rest. We'll see you in the morning."

The doors shut and the ambulance pulled away. Ianto closed his eyes as he imagined putting as much distance as he could between himself and yet another disaster at Canary Wharf. And yet this time, he had done something more, he had saved someone. His failure at Torchwood One would forever sit heavy on his heart, but maybe he had been given a chance to finally release some of the guilt by redeeming himself this second time. He smiled as he thought about those he had lost, but also those he had saved, and most of all Lisa, and how she would have been proud of him.

He felt a gentle kiss on his forehead again and found Jack gazing into his eyes once more. He couldn't help wondering if Jack was proud or just relieved; the raw and emotional look in the man's eyes was so very different than ever before that Ianto wasn't sure how to interpret it. Jack, of course, knew how to ruin a moment.

"I'm sorry your birthday was pretty much awful," he murmured.

"Anything to save the world," Ianto replied, trying to keep the mood light, but Jack frowned thoughtfully.

"Let's try to avoid crazy government researchers intent on destroying the planet next time I hijack your one day off from saving the world."

"You do owe me lunch at the very least," Ianto laughed.

"I owe you much, much more, Ianto Jones." Jack's voice was a husky whisper. "Thank you for letting me tag along, for being there with me, for going in to stop it. But most of all, thank you surviving."

Ianto shook his head at Jack's sudden sappy turn. "How many rooms do you think Tosh will get us?" he asked, hoping to draw Jack out of his gloomy reverie.

"Three if she's afraid of offending you, two if she's afraid of offending me."

Ianto grinned. "Then it will be three, and you'll just have to come over to mine and thank me some more."

"I'll be there," said Jack, and Ianto pulled him down for a long, slow kiss, medics be damned. He had almost died, victim of a haunted past; now it was time to return to the present and look forward to the future, free of fear and full of life.

* * *

Author's Note:

Had to wrap up everything, but there is a short epilogue coming up. If you are a good mystery reader, you'll know where and why. ;)

If I forgot anything, I do apologize. It was quite a lot to keep track of! But it's been fun and more than anything I appreciate the tremendous response. A huge thank you to darcy58 and Cerih for all their wonderful help and encouragement. And thank you to everyone else for reading and keeping me going!


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

The hospital stay was relatively straightforward, and perhaps even a much needed respite from the drama of the past few days. Ianto had his wounds cleaned and bandaged again, and was pumped full of fluids to completely flush his system of any lingering drugs and poison. Jack stayed with him, but did actually allow him to rest after fretting over him in an almost unsettling way. Jack then crashed on the small sofa not long after Ianto had been settled in, and he was fairly certain Jack fell asleep first.

Dr. Williamson checked on him first thing in the morning as promised, and Tosh brought him and Jack a change of clothes that was much appreciated. Fortunately, Ianto did not have to stay long and felt much better when he was released later that morning, in spite of Jack fussing over him the entire time, making sure he was all right and certain he wanted to leave.

He was ready—at least, until they arrived at UNIT headquarters for the briefing with General Brightman. Ianto retrieved his belongings, confiscated when Anastasia Morgan had arrested him. It was strange, to be back so soon; it certainly felt like more than a day had passed. He did not particularly want to be there after what had happened in his short-term jail cell—his thigh was still sore from where they had literally ripped out his tracking device—but given his part in matters, including the death of a UNIT employee, he knew his duty. There was also the small matter of someone keeping Jack in line, particularly when it came to demanding the head of the man who had stabbed and drugged Ianto for Katherine Young; for some reason, that man seemed to have disappeared.

Tosh didn't do so well with the briefing, given her history with UNIT, and after three hours, Jack finally stood and said they needed to go; anything else could be done over the phone. Brightman actually nodded in understanding and walked them out, surprisingly contrite given his organization's involvement in the torture and deaths of so many people. Jack swore as they left the building, made sure both Tosh and Ianto were all right, and then took them to the swankiest restaurant he could find in the West End, where they enjoyed a ridiculously expensive dinner that Ianto was fairly sure Jack would somehow charge to UNIT.

When they finally went back to the hotel Tosh had booked for them the night before, she handed them separate room keys, albeit with both an unsure and yet knowing look. Ianto was exhausted, but rather hoped Jack remembered what he had said yesterday about separate rooms; he was glad when there was a knock on the door ten minutes later and he found Jack standing there, looking uncertain. Pulling him inside, Ianto put aside his exhaustion for the time being.

They walked from the hotel to meet Nigel Williamson and Jordan Ford for brunch the next morning after another quick trip for clothing and supplies. Tosh decided to drive back to Cardiff; Ianto rather suspected she wanted to be as far from UNIT as possible after the previous afternoon's debriefing. When she kissed his cheek goodbye, she whispered, "Enjoy the rest of your trip," and Ianto had a strong feeling that she knew something he didn't.

Brunch with the MI5 agents was far more enjoyable than the meeting at UNIT. Jack and Ianto filled them in on the rest of the case, while Nigel Williamson tried to get Ianto to stay in London, and Jack tried to convince the doctor to retire to Cardiff. Ianto ended up talking to Jordan quite a bit while the other two men traded secret government agency banter back and forth. He found her extremely likable in spite of their rather gruff introduction in his hotel room two days earlier and rather wished Torchwood liaised with MI5 more than UNIT.

"How is Fiona Stewart doing?" Ianto asked during a break in the conversation. The doctor turned to him and smiled broadly.

"I spoke with her yesterday, and she's doing very well. She'll be so glad you asked."

"What is she planning on doing? Now that she's safe?"

"Actually, she's going home," said the doctor. "The ghosts of Canary Wharf kept her here, but she's finally ready to put them behind her. She's from Newcastle, so we're going to drive up there this evening."

Ianto felt a wave of relief sweep over him. "That's wonderful!" he exclaimed. It was so encouraging to know someone at least was recovering from the experience of both Canary Wharf and the long aftermath.

"She felt like she could use the extra support when talking with her family about what happened to her," the doctor said. "Obviously she won't be able to tell them everything, but I offered to be there with her, to help."

"Thank you," said Ianto, grateful to the doctor for his support. He knew the scarred, frail woman who had first spoken to him at the ruins of Canary Wharf needed someone and that the doctor was the right man to help her return to normal life. Maybe Jack had a point about Nigel Williamson retiring to Cardiff. They didn't need a doctor, but a former doctor with strong people skills bordering on therapeutic might be good for them all.

Their meal ended far too soon with promises of meeting again next time Jack and Ianto were in London. Nigel Williamson left to pick up Fiona, while Jordan Ford returned to her job at MI5, claiming it would likely be a bit boring now that she had been kidnapped by an insane secret agent bent on destroying the world. Jack winked and offered her a job in Cardiff with the doctor, telling her she'd get her fill of adventure if she were interested. She laughed him off before thanking them for their help. Ianto watched her leave, then turned to Jack.

"Are we ready, then? To go back home?" He had been aching to return to Cardiff almost since the moment he had left the hospital; it seemed London would only ever be a place full of bad memories, and he was ready to leave them behind once again.

"Tomorrow," Jack said. "We still have a few things to finish here." They headed down the street toward the nearest tube station at St. James's Park. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Jack bought two travel cards. Jack gave him a wink and a grin. "Figured it out, yet?

Ianto tried to guess where they might be going as they boarded the crowded District Line. It occurred to him that they could be going to…no, Jack wouldn't do that. Would he?

His thoughts must have played out on his face. He sat down and stared at Jack as if he could silently wrestle the answer from him. Jack just grinned.

"You didn't," Ianto finally stated.

"Didn't what?" Jack asked so innocently the answer was obvious.

"You did," Ianto sighed. He wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or mortified or something in between. Yet slowly a smile spread across his face, and he felt more relaxed than he had for three days at the thought of the rest of the afternoon playing out the way he now hoped it would.

"I did," said Jack, leaning over to peck him on the cheek, then laying a hand over his. "I hope you don't mind."

"I can't believe you remembered," Ianto murmured, shaking his head. "And after all that's happened over the last few days, why bother?'

"Because I said we would celebrate your birthday properly when this was all over. And you said you were going to ride the Eye for Lisa. So we do both at once." He suddenly looked unsure. "Is that all right? I mean, it's not too morbid or anything, is it?"

Ianto laughed at Jack's rare insecurity. "It might be, but it's fine. It's brilliant. Thank you, Jack."

There was another kiss, this time on the lips. Ianto thought that maybe he should be a bit more discreet—he was on the tube, after all, kissing another man—but he didn't really care, not then. As he had just asked Jack, after the last few days, why bother with something so insignificant as being embarrassed by a kiss when he was in fact feeling quite content?

"I just want you to have a good memory of London to take back to Cardiff," Jack finally said after a long silence. Ianto glanced at him in surprise, and once again Jack looked awkward as he continued. "I mean, it's been a rough trip, and it's the first time you've been back since last year."

"I have good memories of London," Ianto replied, keeping a smile in check so he could have a bit of fun with Jack. "Dragging your numb arse across the car park, the look on your face when I pulled my gun on you in the hotel, the even better look on your face when General Brightman suggested I transfer—"

Jack cut him off with a frown. "That's not what I meant." He paused when he realized he was being played. "And you know it."

Ianto grinned as the train stopped, and they stood to leave. "You're not the only one who can take the piss sometimes, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I just didn't expect it from you," grumbled Jack.

"What, you're still not used to my dry sarcasm, my ironic wit, and my deadpan delivery by now?" He said this all with a single raised eyebrow, which caused Jack to finally burst into laughter.

"Point made. How about, I didn't really anticipate it in the middle of everything else that's happened," he said. He gave Ianto a very serious look as they exited the train and made their way with the crowds to the ground level, finally bursting forth onto a surprisingly clear day. Ianto could see the huge ferris wheel down by the river, a short walk away, and grinned.

"I'm all right, Jack," he said, almost reaching for Jack's hand to reassure him, but stopping at the last minute and increasing his pace instead. "Really. Now come on, I'm excited."

"I didn't think you did excited either," Jack pointed out, hurrying to catch up with him.

"I usually don't. It's part of my mysterious charm."

"You're stealing my lines again," Jack laughed. "I'm supposed to be the mysterious one."

Ianto stopped and turned so quickly that Jack actually bumped into him. "Look, this was my trip, my case, my moment. And now my birthday. So let me enjoy it the way I want to, which includes stealing your lines and giving you a hard time."

And that was when he knew he really had him: Jack stared at him openmouthed, struck speechless. Ianto laughed, and this time he did take Jack's hand with a broad grin and pulled him forward, toward the pier and the grand ferris wheel waiting for them there.

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured into his ear, and Ianto gave him a curious look.

"What for?"

"For everything," Jack shrugged.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," said Ianto, wondering where Jack's sudden melancholy was coming from when they had been joking just a moment before.

"I'm sorry for not being there for you, that you had to go through so much alone, and then have me fuss over you. I didn't even ask if you wanted to do this, if you're up for it."

Ianto shook his head, somewhat amazed at Jack's confession. "Nothing that happened was your fault, Jack. You're here with me now, that's all that matters. And of course I'm up for it." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Ask me again later, and I might be up for even more."

"Always thinking ahead, aren't you?" Jack teased, a bit of his normal demeanor returning.

"Better than thinking about the past," Ianto returned. Because it was in the past, and he couldn't let it hold him back. He had survived Canary Wharf not once, but twice now, and had seen what it could do to someone who was unable to move on.

"Let's just focus on today," Jack said, interrupting his thoughts. "An afternoon on the pier, dinner at Orsino's, and a night at the Proms, okay?"

Ianto nodded, trying not to get choked up over all the effort Jack had taken to plan something special for him, but Jack saw through it and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Happy birthday, Ianto," he whispered with a kiss against his temple.

Ianto sighed with contentment, living the present exactly as he wanted and looking forward to the future even more now that he did not need to look back at the past any longer.

* * *

A stocky man with black hair rubbed a hand against his beard and sighed. It was fairly obvious the two Torchwood agents walking so close together across the pier were more than coworkers, yet that was not what struck him about the men. Instead, he saw two strong soldiers, loyal to Torchwood, the Crown, and the planet. They were exactly what was needed, what the world needed, if it was going to survive.

Because he knew there would always be another Sycorax ship, another Canary Wharf, another Katherine Young desperate to destroy it all for the chance to escape the inevitable. Yet with men like Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, there was hope—hope that the earth might survive the coming catastrophes in her future.

And though he had not intended to stay, perhaps he would, in order to keep the promise he had made to the two men about improving relations between Torchwood and UNIT. It would be a damn shame, after all, if the earth survived countless alien threats only to fall to internal warfare between the two organizations tasked with protecting the planet.

The man smiled to himself as Jack Harkness wrapped an arm around the shoulders of Ianto Jones, who smiled and leaned his head on the shoulder of the former Time Agent. The man nodded to himself and pulled his sleeves down over his wrist strap before turning away from the river. He headed toward the tube station to catch the next train to Tower Hill and what he affectionately thought of as his day job. He'd file his report on Harkness and Jones with his superiors later that night and hope that they let him stay on a bit longer. He liked this planet, this time; Torchwood might need him one day, and he wanted be there for them.

It was what he did, after all: watch over the past to safeguard the future, so that the present could be all that it was meant to be.

* * *

The End!

Thank you so much for reading this story—for all the reviews and comments and support. It has been amazing. A huge thank you to darcy58 for all his comments and Cerish for all hers, especially on this short epilogue. Any mistakes getting around London are my own. From the first chapter I had always seen Jack and Ianto finishing their adventure at the Eye, and with a few other things to mention and wrap up, I had to go for it. If you are scratching your head over the last few paragraphs, please don't. It's just that once I realized who this particular character might be, I did want to leave him a bit more so I could bring him back if I wanted to. Who is he? Well, he's a concerned party. And while there is no sequel for this story, I'd like to think he may very well show up in another someday. :)

Thank you again!


End file.
